THEN  CAME 
CARD  LIN 


HORN  RICHARDS 


THEN  CAME  CAEOLINE 


.   OF  CALIF.   LIBRARY,   LOS  AHGELES 


'But  most  of  all  I  want  to   live — to  understand 
people."     FRONTISPIECE.     See  page  301. 


THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

BY 
LELA  HORN  RICHARDS 

WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

M.  L.   GREER 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY 
1921 


Copyright,  1921, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 

All  rights  reserved 
Published  October,  1921 


PRINTED  IN   THE  UNITED   STATES   OF   AMERICA 


ANNA  COLBURN  PLUMMER 
To  you,  good  friend, 

and 

To  the  long  years  of  happy  and  profitable 
comradeship. 


2132558 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     AN  INTERRUPTED  DRAMA 1 

II.     CAROLINE  COGITATES 16 

III.  FAMILY  AFFAIRS 29 

IV.  CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH 37 

Y.     THE  WANDERER  EETURNS  59 

VI.     THE  NEW  HOME 71 

VII.     ADJUSTMENTS    83 

VIII.     OLD  MR.  TIME 94 

IX.    NEW  FRIENDS 108 

X.    ALISON  ENTERTAINS 120 

XI.  IN  THE  TOWER 134 

XII.  CAROLINE  ATTENDS  A  BALL 149 

XIII.  MADAME  WAKEFIELD 164 

XIV.  THREE  YEARS  LATER 176 

XV.  THE  MADAME  VIEWS  AUNT  CAROLINE.  191 

XVI.    ALISON  EETURNS 205 

XVII.    MAUMY  HAS  A  SECRET 219 

XVIII.    A  WEDDING  232 

XIX.    CHANGES 248 

XX.     CAROLINE  GOES  LARKING 259 

XXL    MAUMY  GOES  VISITING 270 

XXII.    ALF  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 281 

XXIII.     CAROLINE  DECIDES  294 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"  BUT  MOST  OF  ALL  I  WANT  TO  LIVE TO 

UNDERSTAND  PEOPLE." Frontispiece 

PAGE 

"  WE  WEEE  ACTING  THE  GAKDEN  OF  EDEN/' ....  9 

"  YOU  WILL  COME  ?  "  HE  ASKED 181 

MADAME     STUDIED     THE     PORTRAIT     FOR    SOME 

MINUTES  .  .  200 


THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

CHAPTER    I 

AN  INTERRUPTED  DRAMA 

MAUM  RACHEL  parted  the  faded  velvet 
curtains  that  sheltered  the  drawing- 
room  from  the  great,  draughty  hall  and 
put  an  anxious  face  through  the  rift. 

"Miss  Em'bly,"  she  called  softly.  "Miss 
Em'bly,  please,  ma'am,  come  here  a  minute!" 

Mrs.  RaveneFs  small  white  hands  fluttering 
over  the  teacups  paused  for  a  moment.  She 
turned  an  inquiring  face  toward  the  curtains. 
There  was  a  shade  of  annoyance  on  her  usually 
serene  countenance,  —  just  a  shade,  for  it  was 
contrary  to  Kirtley  precedents  to  show  irrita- 
tion in  company,  to  lose  for  an  instant  the  stately 
poise  that  had  descended  like  a  mantle  from  past 
generation 

"Out  here,  please,  Miss  Em'bly.  I  got  to  speak 
to  you." 

Smiling  excuses  to  her  guests,  Emily  Ravenel 
crossed  the  long  room  and  stood  within  the  hall. 


2         THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"It's  Miss  Car'line  agin,  Miss  Em'bly,"  Rachel 
began,  her  thick  lip  with  its  pale  yellow  lining 
protruding  angrily.  "Rufus  ain't  no  sooner 
opened  the  front  door  on  Miz  Colfax  and  Miss 
Rose,  when  she  begin  troopin'  up  all  the  chillun 
in  the  neighborhood.  She's  out  on  the  woodpile, 
zaggeratin'  agin,  for  all  she's  worth,  scarin'  them 
no-count  Jilsen  kids  to  spasms  with  her  yarns 
'bout  de  debil  and  de  deep  seas.  Betty  Fairfield 
got  to  yellin'  so  her  mother  come  and  took  her 
home.  She  say  she  cain't  never  come  over  here 
no  more.  No,  ma'am  !  —  not  ef — Good  Lord! 
What  'at?" 

An  agonizing  scream  rising  on  the  still  Sep- 
tember air  pierced  its  way  from  the  back  yard 
to  the  portals  of  the  blue  drawing-room. 

Mrs.  Ravenel's  face  whitened;  involuntarily 
her  eyes  lifted  to  the  chamber  on  the  landing 
above.  A  chamber  that  was  kept  singularly  free 
from  disturbance,  especially  at  this  hour  of  the 
afternoon  when  Doctor  Ravenel  took  his  custom- 
ary rest. 

Rachel,  outraged  and  belligerent,  started  for 
the  kitchen,  her  torn  carpet  slippers  slapping 
the  bare  floors  testily. 

"Dat  chile  suttanly  is  gwine  be  de  death  of 
her  poor  sick  Paw,"  she  muttered,  trying  to  Tseep 
up  with  Mrs.  Ravenel's  quickened  steps.  "She 
suttanly " 


AN  INTERRUPTED  DRAMA      3 

A  frightened  mulatto  girl  of  some  sixteen 
years  interrupted  the  prophecy. 

"It's  Willie  Boland,"  she  said,  her  words  com- 
ing in  a  torrent.  "Miss  Car'line,  she  done  make 
believe  the  woodpile  was  the  Red  Sea.  She  had 
'em  all  a-crossin,'  and  when  they  get  a  good 
start  she  yell  'sharks;'  and  that  poor  white 
trash  Jilsen  girl  she  push  Willie,  and  he  fell  on 
the  saw  Rufus  lef  on  a  log,  and  he  cut  his  face 
and  hurt  his  laig " 

Rachel's  hands  shot  above  her  head  indig- 
nantly. 

"Red  Sea!"  she  snorted,  moving  on  to  the 
kitchen.  "I  knew  last  Sunday,  when  Miss  Em'bly 
taken  her  to  meetin'  agin,  they'd  be  the  debil  to 
pay.  I  knew  she'd  be  a-res'rectin'  Daniel  in  his 
den,  or  feedin'  the  multitude  outen  my  fresh 
bakin'.  Nobody  ever  knows  what  she's  gwine 
try  next." 

"She  ain't  been  to  meetin'  fer  some  time,  is 
she?"  Judy  speculated.  "Not  since  the  day 
she  blew  out  the  candles  the  altar  boys  was 
carryin'  up  the  aisle " 

In  spite  of  her  wrath,  Maum  Rachel  chuckled 
heartily,  and  her  heavy  shoulders  shook  with 
mirth. 

"Lord  save  us,  that  nearly  combust  de  congre- 
gation, sure  miff!  And  Miss  Em'bly  plum  in- 
nercent  of  what  her  chile  was  a-doin'  till  the 


4          THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

minister  stop  dead  in  his  tracks  and  frown  down 
on  her  —  Who  all  been  in  my  cooky  jar?" 

"Miss  Caroline.  She  had  to  get  up  a  lunch 
fer  de  chillun  to  carry  with  'em  crost  the  sea. 
That  was  the  only  way  she  could  get  'em  to 
cross."  Judy's  lips  broke  in  a  slow  smile. 

Willie's  screams  had  dwindled  to  a  moan  when 
Mrs.  Ravenel  reached  the  long  back  yard  that 
stretched  in  an  irregular  triangle  to  the  lap  of 
the  low  Virginia  hills. 

At  the  first  outcry  on  that  still  afternoon, 
there  had  been  a  swift  scuttling  of  frightened 
feet,  an  exodus  of  "trash"  and  "gentry,"  for 
Caroline,  cosmopolite  from  the  soles  of  her  im- 
pudent, high-arched,  Kirtley  feet,  to  the  crown 
of  her  wavy,  sun-burned  hair,  had  established  a 
democracy  that  was  at  once  the  bane  and  the 
admiration  of  the  neighborhood. 

The  yard  was  deserted,  sa^e  for  the  two  occu- 
pants of  the  woodpile.  Caroline  had  managed 
to  extricate  enough  of  Willie's  body  from  the 
grip  of  the  logs  to  pillow  his  head  on  her  knees. 
She  was  stanching  the  blood  on  his  temple  with 
a  hastily  torn  ruffle  from  her  white  petticoat 
when  she  felt  her  mother's  eyes  upon  her. 

"He's  cut  his  head  and  hurt  his  leg.  I  think 
maybe  it  is  broken,"  she  said  with  calm  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  her  surgeon  father. 
"I  reckon  we  must  waken  the  Major." 


AN  INTERRUPTED  DRAMA      5 

"Caroline!  Is  it  really  so  bad  as  that?  I  do 
not  think " 

Mrs.  Ravenel's  respect  for  the  English  lan- 
guage never  failed,  even  in  the  most  tragic 
moments :  she  would  no  more  have  thought  of 
taking  a  cross-cut  through  a  sentence  than 
through  a  traffic  jam. 

"I  do  not  think  that  your  father  is  able  to  per- 
form an  operation  to-day.  He  is  very  miserable." 

In  Caroline's  amber  eyes  anxiety  gave  place 
to  scorn. 

"Do  you  think  Major  would  let  anybody  set  a 
bone  that  was  broken  on  our  woodpile?  Cer- 
tainly not.  He  will  set  it,  and  I  will  nurse  Willie 
till  he  gets  well." 

Despite  the  fact,  that  Willie's  head  was  peril- 
ously near  the  edge  of  her  spread  knees  she  drew 
herself  from  the  waist  up  —  she  could  not  rise  — 
to  her  ten  years'  height.  The  thrill  that  shot 
like  an  electric  current  through  her  sacrificial 
veins  warmed  her  enthusiasm.  It  was  character- 
istic of  Caroline  that  she  never  lost  an  oppor- 
tunity to  exploit  an  emotion,  to  lift  it  if  possible 
to  the  n'th  degree. 

"But  I  tell  you,  Caroline,  that  he  is  not 
able " 

The  appearance  of  Rufus  put  an  end  to  the 
discussion. 

"De  Major  he  say  fer  me  to  carry  de  chile  into 


6          THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

the  office."  Then,  lowering  his  voice,  "He  say 
he  done  break  a  bone;  he  know  de  cry." 

The  old  negro  lifted  the  afflicting  log  and  freed 
Willie's  leg.  Then  he  gathered  him  in  his  arms, 
regardless  of  remonstrance,  and  carried  him  into 
the  wing  that  was  given  over  to  Doctor  Haveners 
profession. 

Caroline  walked  by  Rufus,  catching  at  Willie's 
dangling  hand,  whispering  words  of  encourage- 
ment. 

"You  are  quite  sure  that  you  are  able  to  under- 
take this,  Doctor?"  his  wife  inquired,  pausing 
at  the  office  door.  She  always  addressed  her 
husband  with  quaint  dignity. 

"It  is  scarcely  a  question  of  can"  the  tall, 
sick-looking  man  replied,  motioning  Rufus  to  a 
couch  at  the  end  of  the  room.  "Send  Leigh  here 
immediately,  please.  Caroline  may  go  with 
you." 

At  the  announcement  Caroline  stepped  into 
the  room  and  stood  for  the  briefest  instant  be- 
fore her  father  with  her  slender,  begrimed  hand 
pressed  against  her  brow  in  salutation.  The 
gesture  —  it  amounted  to  little  more  —  was  a 
remnant  of  early  army  life,  baby  days  spent  at 
a  well-known  post  where  her  father  was  surgeon. 
There,  also,  she  had  first  lisped  Major,  rather 
than  Father,  and  the  habit  clung. 

"Please  let  me  stay,  Major,"  she  begged. 


AN  INTERRUPTED  DRAMA      7 

Doctor  Ravenel  shook  his  head;  his  lips  were 
strangely  grim.  The  expression,  foreign  to  his 
fine  face,  (where  his  fourth  daughter  was  con- 
cerned) hurt  inexpressibly. 

"You  may  go  with  your  mother,  Caroline.  At 
once." 

No  one  ever  argued  a  question  wTith  Doctor 
Ravenel.  He  had  reared  his  children  with  a 
thoroughly  commendable  attitude  toward  obedi- 
ence, impelled,  no  doubt,  by  a  certain  laxness 
on  the  part  of  their  mother.  Mrs.  Ravenel  was 
too  gentle,  too  yielding  to  indulge  in  disturbing 
discipline.  It  grated  on  her  sensitive  nature  and 
upset  her  digestive  organs.  She  usually  capitu- 
lated to  annoying  controversies  with,  "Your 
father  will  settle  the  matter,"  or,  "Go  to  Leigh." 

In  the  hall  Caroline  and  her  mother  parted, 
Mrs.  Ravenel  turning  toward  the  drawing-room 
and  her  neglected  guests. 

"I  think  you  had  better  go  to  your  room,  darl- 
ing," she  admonished,  as  the  child  reluctantly 
began  to  climb  the  stairs,  "and  think  over  your 
disobedience  until  your  father  is  ready  to  talk 
with  you.  And  tell  sister  she  is  needed  in  the 
office  immediately." 

The  drawing-room  was  empty  save  for  Maum 
Rachel,  who  was  picking  up  fragile  cups  and 
saucers  preparatory  to  carrying  out  the  service. 

"Miz  Colfax  and   Miss  Rose  done  lef  their 


8          THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

compliments  fer  y'all,"  she  mumbled,  shoving 
the  dishes  onto  a  waiting  tray.  "They  say  they 
reckon  Miss  Car'line  been  up  to  some  debilment 
and  they  better  be  going.  They  say  they  pow'ful 
glad  their  little  Massa  Tom  he  gone  to  dancin' 
school  this  afternoon  'les  he  be  in  the  fracas 

and  git  his  head  busted  up  like  Massa  Willie 

» 

"That  will  do,  Rachel.  Mrs.  Colfax's  remarks 
were  not  meant  for  repetition." 

"Miss  Car'line  she  done  get  us  all  in  wrong 
with  the  neighbors,  Miss  Em'bly ;  she  sure " 

A  decided  wave  of  her  mistress's  hand  stopped 
Rachel's  grievance.  She  left  the  room  in  sullen 
silence. 

Caroline  wended  her  way  up  the  broad  stairs 
with  provoking  deliberation  until  she  reached 
the  landing.  Then  she  ran  lightly  down  the 
wide,  gloomy  hall,  opening  a  door  at  the  ex- 
treme end. 

A  girl  of  seventeen  sat  by  an  open  window 
with  a  mending  basket  on  her  lap.  In  her  hand 
she  held  a  child's  white  stocking,  upon  which 
she  was  patiently  working. 

She  looked  up  with  a  smile  as  wan  as  it  was 
expectant. 

"What  is  it,  honey?"  she  asked,  and  a  little 
frown  came  between  her  clear  blue  eyes.  "You're 
not  in  trouble  again?" 


'We  were  acting  the  Garden  of  Eden."     Page  9. 


AN  INTERRUPTED  DRAMA      9 

Caroline's  answer  was  straight  and  to  the 
point. 

"Willie  Boland  got  hurt  on  the  woodpile. 
Maybe  his  leg's  broken  (her  face  was  strangely 
eager)  and  Major  wants  you  to  come  down  to 
the  office  right  away  and  help  him  fix  it." 

Leigh  put  the  stocking  in  the  basket  and  rose 
with  a  sigh.  She  moved  slowly  as  she  crossed 
the  room  to  throw  an  affectionate  arm  around 
her  sister's  shoulder.  An  early  illness  had  left 
her  frail,  with  a  tendency  toward  a  curved  spine, 
but  the  strength  that  ebbed  from  her  wasted  body 
had  not  been  lost:  it  had  flowed  to  her  soul. 
Leigh  Ravenel  was  the  flower  and  stay  of  her 
adoring,  dependent  family. 

"Caroline,"  she  whispered,  "how  dreadful! 
How  did  it  happen?" 

"Oh,  we  were  acting  the  Garden  of  Eden.  I 
made  up  a  play  last  Sunday  in  church.  I'll  tell 
you  about  it  when  you  come  back.  Give  my  love 
to  Willie  and  tell  him  it's  a  good  deal  his  own 
fault.  I  wanted  him  to  take  my  place  and  be 
God,  but  he  didn't  like  standing  on  a  mound  giv- 
ing blessings.  And  let  me  know  when  its  all 
over,  for  I'm  going  to  nurse  him  until  he's  well 
again." 

Leigh's  horrified  expression  was  lost  in  the 
shadowy  hall,  and  Caroline  turned  to  the  front 
of  the  house.  She  longed  to  go  downstairs  and 


10        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

listen  just  outside  the  office  door  to  Willie's 
moans;  to  suffer  with  him  (she  even  limped  a 
little  and  felt  her  way  along  the  wall  in  lieu 
of  a  crutch,  thinking  how  he  would  walk  when 
he  recovered),  but  the  Major  had  said  "Up- 
stairs." 

Instead  of  opening  her  own  door,  she  leaned 
over  the  banister,  to  be  rewarded  by  several 
sharp,  terrifying  yells  and  a  number  of  low, 
heart-breaking  moans,  moans  that  found  a  smoth- 
ered echo  on  the  second  landing.  And  there  was 
the  entrancing  odor  of  an  escaping  anesthetic, 
an  odor  so  satisfying  to  her  greedy  emotions  that 
she  stood  for  some  minutes  with  closed  eyes  and 
invitingly  distended  nostrils. 

A  deathlike  calm  followed  the  moans;  a  calm 
so  ominous  that  Caroline's  imagination  took  new 
flight.  Perhaps  Willie  was  dead.  Poor  Willie, 
who  only  a  short  half-hour  ago  was  so  happily 
hopping  over  the  woodpile  to  escape  sharks.  But 
death  was  not  so  terrible,  at  least  not  at  first, 
when  people  were  busy  with  the  funeral.  A 
funeral!  She  closed  her  eyes  and  behind  them 
a  picture  slowly  unfolded.  Perhaps,  since  she 
had  been  instrumental  in  bringing  Willie  to  an 
untimely  end,  his  family  would  let  her  have 
charge  of  the  funeral,  choose  the  hymns:  "On- 
ward, Christian  Soldiers",  or  — though  it  was 
more  often  used  at  weddings  —  "The  Breath  that 


AN  INTERRUPTED  DRAMA     11 

Blew  O'er  Eden."  That  would  be  appropriate, 
too. 

Leigh's  whitened  face  as  she  left  the  office 
and  laboriously  pulled  up  the  stairs  brought  the 
startling  question: 

"Is  he  dead,  Sister?  He  stopped  moaning,  all 
so  sudden " 

Like  the  Major's,  Leigh's  lips  tightened.  Her 
expression  was  singularly  like  her  father's,  al- 
though she  had  inherited  the  fair  skin  and  clear, 
round  eyes  of  the  Kirtleys. 

"No,  Caroline ;  fortunately  you  have  not  killed 
him  with  your  foolish  play,  but  he  has  a  broken 
ankle  which  will  keep  him  in  bed  for  some  time 
and  possibly  cripple  him.  It  is  a  very  bad  frac- 
ture." 

"Is  it  really?  And  you  think  maybe  he  will 
be  lame?  Oh,  Leigh,  do  you  'spose  his  mother 
will  expect  me  to  marry  him  and  take  care  of 
him?  I  don't  like  the  Bolands  a  bit,  even  if  they 
are  a  good  family,  but  of  course  I  would  be 
willing " 

"I  think  you  had  better  go  to  your  room  and 
wash  your  face  and  hands.  Father  wants  to 
see  you  in  the  office  in  ten  minutes." 

"Is  Willie  still  there?" 

"No,  his  mother  came  for  him  in  the  carriage." 

"Was  she  terribly  angry?" 

"Naturally,  she  was  indignant." 


12        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

It  was  a  clean  and  chastened  Caroline  that 
later  knocked  at  the  office  door.  The  low  and 
somewhat  muffled  "Come  in"  sounded  harsh  and 
inhospitable. 

Doctor  Ravenel  was  busy  at  his  desk.  He 
raised  his  head  from  a  file  of  papers  long  enough 
to  wave  Caroline  to  a  chair  by  the  window  and 
went  on  with  his  work. 

For  a  while  she  sat  still,  her  thin  little  body 
(she  seemed  more  sprite  than  child)  bent  for- 
ward in  the  chair,  her  small  hands  with  their 
slender,  tapering  fingers  clasped  tightly  in  her 
pink  pinafore. 

Now  and  then  she  glanced  at  the  old  clock 
ticking  patiently  in  the  reception  room  beyond. 
Across  the  hall  she  could  see  Judy  passing  back 
and  forth,  setting  the  table  for  the  evening  meal. 
She  wondered  if  she  would  be  permitted  to  dine 
with  the  family.  There  had  been  times  when 
the  privilege  was  denied  her. 

Earlier  in  the  afternoon  it  had  showered,  and 
through  the  open  window  waves  of  air  brought 
the  scent  of  mignonette  and  the  sweet,  loamy 
fragrance  of  purple  and  white  phlox.  Caroline 
sniffed  it  dreamily.  She  would  go  out  later  on 
and  gather  a  bouquet  to  carry  over  to  poor 
Willie,  a  peace  offering.  On  second  thought  she 
believed  it  would  be  better  to  save  the  flowers  — 
in  case  


AN  INTERRUPTED  DRAMA     13 

She  scarcely  dared  contemplate  the  picture 
that  rose  in  her  mind,  sweeping  it  away  con- 
scientiously. 

Her  eyes  wandered  from  the  garden  to  the 
familiar  room,  littered  and  shabby.  She  wond- 
ered if  Willy  had  occupied  the  cranky,  green  rep 
chair  with  its  squeaky  levers  while  his  bones 
were  being  slipped  into  place,  or  the  pine  table 
with  its  white  oilcloth  covering.  The  table  prob- 
ably ;  the  soft,  quilted  pad  that  Leigh  had  finished 
a  few  days  before  was  mussed  and  soiled. 

The  silence  deepened.  Judy  had  finished  the 
table  and  gone  back  to  the  kitchen.  Caroline 
could  hear  her  clear,  high  voice  raised  in  a 
favorite  song: 

"Come  on,  sinners,  come  on,  sinners,  get  a  boat, 
Get  a  boat  —  get  a  boat  fer  to  cross  ole 
Jerden." 

'A  trembling  sigh  left  Caroline's  lips.  She 
wished  the  Major  would  hurry  with  his  work. 
She  hated  suspense.  Perhaps  he  had  forgotten 
about  her. 

She  rose  quietly  and  started  on  tiptoe  toward 
the  door,  but  a  glance  from  the  stern  hazel  eyes 
turned  in  her  direction  pinned  her  to  the  chair. 

"I  —  I  was  just  goin'  for  a  drink,  Major,"  she 
apologized.  "Wouldn't  you  like  a  lemonade 
yourself  —  or  a  julep,  maybe?  I  gathered  some 
mint  awhile  ago.  It's  nice  and  cold " 


14        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

The  bowed  head  with  its  fast  silvering  hair 
shook  ungratefully. 

The  clock  ticked  on:  the  stillness  became  un- 
bearable. 

Suddenly  Caroline  understood.  The  Major 
was  angry.  He  was  not  interested  in  the  papers 
that  engrossed  his  attention;  —  he  was  simply 
gaining  time,  getting  hold  of  himself,  bringing 
every  atom  of  will  to  bear  upon  his  temper,  to 
control  it. 

She  sank  back  in  the  chair. 

Uncomfortable  chills  raced  up  and  down  her 
spine.  Through  the  haze  of  her  bestirring  brain 
crept  a  memory,  another  occasion  when  she  had 
occupied  the  chair  by  the  window. 

The  memory  of  that  fateful  hour  was  stamped 
indelibly  upon  her  mind.  Ever  a  realist,  she  had 
taken  a  sharp  stick  and  pushed  out  two  front 
teeth  (to  be  sure  they  were  loose)  to  better  emu- 
late a  witch  in  one  of  her  numerous  dramas. 
The  result  proved  disastrous.  From  that  day 
forth  the  family  slogan  had  been,  "Remember 
your  teeth,  Caroline!"  when  her  spirited  fancy 
wandered.  Remember  them?  As  if  she  could 
ever  forget  the  pain  and  humiliation  of  having 
the  new  ones  probed  for  and  guided,  to  say 
nothing  of  sacrifices  occasioned  by  repeated 
dentist's  bills. 

Doctor  Ravenel  raised  his  head  at  last,  folded 


AN  INTERRUPTED  DRAMA     15 

his  papers  and  thrust  them  into  a  drawer  at  the 
side  of  his  desk. 

Then  he  crossed  the  room  and,  closing  the  door 
that  opened  to  the  hall,  turned  the  key  in  the 
lock. 


CHAPTER    II 
CABOLINE  COGITATES 

THE  Kirtley  mansion,  as  it  was  familiarly 
alluded  to  by  the  oldest  inhabitants  of 
Warrensburg,  had  gradually  sunk  from 
former  grandeur  to  a  state  little  short  of  decad- 
ence. Its  galleries  sagged,  its  stately  pillars 
were  scarred  and  weather-beaten ;  and  along  the 
flagstone  path  that  led  to  the  massive  front  door, 
wild  grass  and  sportive  daisies  played  hide  and 
seek  the  summer  through,  unmolested  by  trowel 
or  rake. 

Even  the  town,  once  proud  of  the  high  ground 
where  aristocracy  established  its  habitation,  had 
turned  its  back  and  sauntered  leisurely  through 
the  valley,  building  its  show  places  along  the 
river  that  wound  in  and  out  among  elms  and 
oaks. 

But  in  the  South,  name  and  reputation  live 
longer  than  house  or  location,  so  that  the  Kaven- 
els,  while  inconvenienced  by  the  general  dilapida- 
tion going  on  about  them,  were  in  no  way  ostra- 
cized by  it.  It  would  have  taken  a  good  deal  of 
courage  for  any  one  of  the  nouveaux  riches,  fast 


CAROLINE  COGITATES          17 

springing  up  in  the  metropolis,  to  snub  a  Kirt- 
ley, or  look  askance  at  the  deteriorating  house 
set  in  its  deserted  half-acre.  Kemote  and  run 
down  as  it  was,  the  place  still  held  the  glamor  of 
happier  days;  days  when  old  Colonel  Kirtley, 
with  blood  bluer  than  the  bluest  in  Warrensburg 
County,  rode  all  day  long  without  reaching  the 
end  of  his  own  domain. 

His  portrait  still  hung  in  the  hall,  an  aristo- 
crat of  the  old  South,  in  ruff  and  periwig;  his 
slender,  silk-stockinged  legs  crossed  carelessly, 
his  gold-headed  riding  crop  in  his  shapely  hand. 

The  portrait  was  an  heirloom  treasured  be- 
yond price.  Every  Kirtley,  from  the  gentleman's 
own  son  down,  had  stood  in  awe  before  it,  and 
such  stress  had  been  laid  upon  the  importance  of 
great,  great-grandfather  Kirtley  (so  it  was  told) 
that  a  child  of  a  later  generation  had  one  day 
rushed  home  from  a  neighbor's  with  the  astonish- 
ing information  that  the  Beris fords  had  a  great, 
great-grandfather,  too;  a  fact  to  be  verified  by 
the  family,  since  the  youth  had  been  reared  to 
believe  that  the  Kirtleys  possessed  a  world  mon- 
opoly on  that  particular  kind  of  an  ancestor. 

There  was  also  another  portrait  that  hung  in 
the  hall,  higher  up,  in  a  niche  of  its  own  on  the 
first  stair  landing:  Great-aunt  Caroline,  she  of 
the  rosy  cheeks  and  wide  leghorn  hat  drooping 
with  pink  roses.  It  was  a  graceful  portrait, 


18        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

handsomely  executed :  Great-aunt  Caroline  had 
a  pleasant,  human  look.  Her  smile  was  merry ; 
her  short,  round  figure  —  all  that  could  be  seen 
of  it  —  distractingly  plump  and  dimpled. 

This  beautiful  woman,  the  youngest  sister  of 
Emily  Kavenel's  father,  had,  in  her  eighteenth 
year,  married  an  Englishman  of  noble  birth  and 
gone  to  live  in  his  ancestral  home  across  the  sea. 

Although  the  Ravenel  family  had  long  since 
lost  track  of  her,  the  flavor  of  her  beauty  and 
romance  remained  with  them.  Her  name,  with 
the  children  at  any  rate,  was  a  fairy  wand  wThich 
would  some  day  turn  their  hopes  and  aspirations 
into  realities. 

"When  Great-aunt  passes  on  and  leaves  me  her 
diamond  necklace  and  pearl  tiara !"  was  Alison's 
frequent  ~bon  mot.  Alison,  being  extremely  hand- 
some, thought  a  good  deal  about  adornment. 

"I  shall  take  my  fortune  and  go  to  Paris  to 
study  art,"  Mayre  always  said.  Mayre  was  the 
dilettante  of  the  family :  a  jack  of  all  trades  and 
master  of  none,  they  ungraciously  declared. 

"The  money  will  all  come  to  me  because  I  am 
named  for  her,"  Caroline  had  once  remarked, 
when  the  subject  was  in  full  swing.  "And  when 
it  does  I  shall  buy  a  circus  of  my  very  own  and 
ride  a  dappled  gray  horse  in  a  white  tarlatan 
skirt  with  a  million  ruffles  on  it."  To  which  her 
younger  sister  Hope  (who  could  see  through 


CAROLINE  COGITATES          19 

a  joke  better  than  she  could  through  fractions) 
replied  amiably: 

"I  have  never  seen  a  horse  in  skirts;  I  should 
think  he  would  be  very  funny  —  maybe  you 
wouldn't  need  a  clown." 

To-night  as  Caroline  ran  upstairs  after  leaving 
her  father's  office,  she  stopped  before  the  portrait 
and  protruded  the  end  of  a  very  pink  tongue  at 
the  smiling  lips  and  damask  cheeks. 

There  was  no  particular  reason  why  Aunt 
Caroline  should  have  received  the  brunt  of  her 
namesake's  outraged  feelings  unless,  being  mute, 
she  could  not  retaliate,  and  the  moue,  which  dis- 
torted a  very  attractive  face  into  a  very  naughty 
one,  relieved  the  venom  that  was  gathering  in 
Caroline's  wounded  breast. 

She  reached  her  own  room,  and  turning  up  a 
light  to  make  sure  Hope  was  not  about,  closed 
the  door  with  a  push  that  just  escaped  being  a 
slam. 

The  interview  in  the  office  had  been  long  and 
painful.  She  had  been  punished  for  something 
she  considered  no  fault  of  hers.  Being  extremely 
just  in  her  own  dealings,  she  resented  the  stern 
accusations  and  the  humiliating  punishment  that 
had  been  meted  out  to  her. 

She  went  over  to  the  window  and  sat  down  in 
a  little,  old-fashioned  chair  that  had  descended 
from  one  generation  of  Kirtleys  to  another:  a 


20        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

comfortable,  low  chair  with  a  carpet  back  and 
seat.  At  the  present  moment  Caroline  found  it 
more  soothing  than  the  hard,  fiddle-backed  ma- 
hogany drawn  beside  it. 

It  was  seven  o'clock.  Neither  she  nor  her 
father  had  dined.  But  she  had  not  missed  the 
meal.  Food  was  always  her  last  consideration, 
and  to-night  Maum  Rachel's  beaten  biscuit  and 
golden-brown  chicken  would  have  choked  her. 

The  soft  September  twilight  was  coming  on, 
and  Caroline  put  her  head  out  of  the  window  to 
cool  her  hot  face.  She  wished  that  she  could  go 
down  in  the  garden  and  wTatch  the  primroses 
open;  the  scent  that  reached  her  on  the  cool, 
damp  air  was  a  sympathetic  invitation.  But  the 
Major's  express  command  had  been  "Upstairs  in 
your  own  room  and  to  bed.7' 

She  sat  thinking  for  some  minutes  after  she 
had  cooled  her  fevered  face.  And  to  think,  with 
Caroline,  was  to  plot.  Her  mind,  many-sided 
and  romantic,  always  leaped  to  the  sentimental 
and  unusual. 

Finally  she  rose  and  going  over  to  a  chest  be- 
gan taking  out  her  clean  clothes  and  best  Sunday 
shoes  and  stockings.  A  sound  at  the  door  made 
her  tumble  them  back  in  a  disorderly  heap,  re- 
gardless of  the  hours  Judy  had  spent  bringing 
the  frocks  to  their  state  of  polished  neatness. 

Hope,  comfortable  and  chatty  after  the  ample 


CAROLINE  COGITATES          21 

evening  meal,  edged  into  the  room,  and  taking 
the  fiddle-backed  chair,  gazed  at  her  sister  with 
interest. 

"Caught  it,  didn't  you!"  she  remarked  in  a 
tone  that  made  Caroline  grit  her  teeth  and  look 
about  for  something  to  hurl  at  her:  there  was 
nothing  handy  so  she  compromised  by  turning 
her  back. 

"Willie's  worse.  Kufus  had  to  hitch  up  and 
take  father  over.  What  do  you  suppose  they'll 
do  to  you  if  he  dies?" 

There  was  no  answer  from  the  carpet-backed 
chair. 

"Maum  Rachel  says  you've  got  a  devil  in  you ; 
she  says  sometimes  they  get  inside  of  you,  and 
you  can't  get  them  out." 

The  suggestion  proved  an  inspiration. 

"I  have,  and  you'd  better  look  out,  Miss 
Smarty!" 

Quick  as  a  flash  Caroline  rose  and,  running 
over  to  the  door,  locked  it,  hurling  the  key 
through  the  open  window. 

Hope's  face  whitened  and  she  shrank  against 
the  wall. 

"And  I'm  tired  of  him,  so  I'm  going  to  give 
him  to  you.  Here,  here,  —  I  make  you  a  pres- 
ent." 

Hunching  herself  into  the  most  grotesque 
shape  possible,  Caroline  puffed  out  her  cheeks, 


22        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

turned  in  her  eyes,  and  with  a  little  fantastic 
movement  of  her  crossed  fingers  began  to  hop 
toward  the  terrified  child  who  backed  into  a 
corner. 

Children  left  to  the  care  of  negro  servants  are 
not  to  blame  for  the  reality  of  their  superstitions. 
Hope,  believing  that  a  transfer  of  a  devil  from 
her  sister's  bosom  to  her  own  was  imminent,  be- 
gan to  wail  loudly. 

The  sound  stopped  the  antics  for  a  moment, 
but  remembering  that  Hope  had  said  her  father 
was  not  at  home,  Caroline  resumed  her  threaten- 
ing attitude. 

"Here  he  comes!  Take  him!  Take  him! 
Catch  him !  Hold  on  to  him !" 

Hope's  wail  rose  to  a  scream. 

The  hopping  had  developed  into  a  mad  incanta- 
tion, as  original  as  it  was  terrifying. 

"Don't,  don't,  please,  please  don't!"  screamed 
Hope. 

"You've  got  him  —  got  him  —  I  saw  him  jump 
—  Look  out!  How  do  you  like  him?  See  his 
horns?" 

A  battering  on  the  door  drowned  the  frantic 
yells. 

"Caroline!  Caroline!  Do  you  hear  me?  Open 
the  door  instantly."  Leigh's  tones  were  clear 
and  judicial. 

"Can't.     The  key  isn't  here." 


CAROLINE  COGITATES         23 

"Where  is  it?" 

"Down  in  the  yard  where  Caroline  threw  it," 
came  Hope's  retaliatory  ton 

"Tattletale  —  cry  baby  —  wishey-washey  good- 
ey-goodey,"  floated  through  the  empty  keyhole. 

It  took  some  time  to  find  Maum  Rachel,  who 
always  carried  pass-keys  on  the  long  chain  that 
dangled  at  her  belt. 

"I  tole  Little  Miss  (Hope  was  always  "Little 
Miss"  to  the  negroes)  dat  chile  done  had  a  debil," 
Kachel  said  as  she  flung  the  door  wide. 

"She  has,  and  she  tried  to  give  him  to  me," 
Hope  screamed.  "Oh,  Maum  Kachel,  look  at  her ! 
Look !" 

The  incantation  had  begun  again.  The  old 
negress  threw  her  hands  over  her  head  and  made 
for  the  hall  as  fast  as  her  weary  limbs  would 
permit. 

"She  done  hoodooed,  Miss  Leigh !  For  de  lub 
of  de  Lord  don't  you  go  near  her !  She's  gwine 
bite  in  a  minute !  Judy,"  she  called,  "you  triflin' 
nigger,  you  run  over  to  Marse  Boland's  an'  git 
her  Paw." 

The  excitement  brought  Mrs.  Ravenel  from  be- 
low, but  it  was  Leigh  who  took  hold  of  the  young 
culprit  and  shook  her  soundly.  "Stop  it  this 
instant!"  she  commanded.  "Haven't  you  done 
enough  mischief  for  one  day?  Remember  your 
teeth!" 


24        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Caroline's  face  resumed  its  natural  shape  and 
her  arms  went  around  her  sister's  neck. 

"Oh,  Leigh,"  she  cried,  "nobody  loves  me;  no- 
body wants  me  here  and  I  am  going  to  run  away 

—  this  very  night.     You  will  all  see  and  be  sorry 

—  sorry  you  forced  me  to  leave  you.     I'll  show 
you!" 

It  was  an  old  threat  to  which  no  one  ever  paid 
the  slightest  attention. 

Leigh  put  her  cool  cheek  against  the  pink,  wet 
one  and  whispered: 

"Leigh  loves  you,  darling,  when  you  will  let 
her,  but  you  are  so  naughty,  and  with  poor  father 
ill "  She  drew  Hope  toward  the  hall. 

"Come  with  me,  dear,"  she  said.  "I  think  we 
will  let  Caroline  sleep  alone  to-night." 

Caroline  tried  to  look  indifferent,  but  the  good 
fortune  thus  thrust  upon  her  almost  brought  a 
smile. 

It  took  some  minutes  for  the  house  to  resume 
its  usual  quiet.  Caroline  crept  back  to  the 
window  to  form  her  interrupted  plans.  She 
heard  the  front  door  open  and  close  and  knew 
that  her  father  had  returned.  Down  the  hall  in 
the  old  nursery  where  she  was  still  comforting 
Hope,  Maum  Rachel's  crooning  voice  lifted  in 
song: 

"De  —  wind  —  is  in  de  west,"  she  sang  in  a 
wavering  crescendo: 


CAROLINE  COGITATES          25 

"De  —  wind  —  is  in  de  west ; 
De  —  turkey's  in  de  nest ; 
So  don't  you  cry,  IIP  baby 
Don't  —  you  —  cry  — 
Don't  —  you  —  cry  — 
Cry  — 
Cry. 

It  was  some  time  before  Caroline  stirred ;  when 
she  did  she  looked  about  with  a  sigh.  It  was  a 
little  hard,  after  all,  to  leave  home.  She  glanced 
at  the  great,  high  bed  with  its  carved  pineapple 
posts,  and  wondered  if  she  would  ever  find  an- 
other so  comfortable.  True  it  was  a  good  deal 
of  trouble  to  climb  into  it;  that  was  why  the 
carpet-covered  box  stood  in  such  close  proximity ; 

but  once  in 

Judy  had  neatly  turned  the  heavy  linen  sheets 
and  put  a  pair  of  soft  blue  slippers  beside  the 
box.  The  sight  was  a  persuasive  argument  to 
remain,  but  —  the  family  needed  its  lesson. 

She  glanced  through  the  window  into  the 
thickened  gloom.  A  black  pall  covered  the 
garden.  She  could  no  longer  see  the  primroses, 
wide-eyed  now  and  heavy  with  fragrance. 

"I  reckon  it  would  be  just  as  well  to  pack  to- 
night and  get  an  early  start  in  the  morning," 
ehe  thought,  glancing  back  at  the  turned  cover- 
lets. 

Out  of  the  chest  came  the  frocks  again.     She 


26        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

scarcely  knew  what  was  a  la  mode  for  running 
awray,  but  she  thought  perhaps  the  best  would 
be  none  too  good.  It  always  paid  to  impress 
strangers.  She  chose  the  new  red  and  brown 
plaid  that  Miss  Tilly  Macon,  the  seamstress,  had 
finished  the  week  before.  Mayre,  in  an  angelic 
moment,  had  said  that  it  brought  out  the  chest- 
nut shades  in  her  thick  hair.  Mayre  could  be 
kind,  even  complimentary  at  times,  although  she 
had  once  declared  that  Caroline's  amber  eyes 
had  coffee  grounds  in  them,  adding  with  a  con- 
noisseur's lingering  glance  that,  after  all,  she 
loved  the  effect.  It  gave  a  "speckled"  look  that 
was  "different." 

Next  came  the  shoes.  Caroline  rather  disliked 
the  idea  of  walking  in  her  best  shoes.  There  was 
always  a  complaint  about  shoes.  Providing  four 
pairs  monthly  was  a  drain  on  the  family  purse : 
of  course  Leigh's  lasted  longer.  But  her  old 
shoes  would  look  shabby  with  the  new  plaid,  and 
anyway,  she  intended  to  ride  Calico  part  way. 

TWTO  sets  of  underwear,  a  toothbrush  and  comb 
completed  the  pile.  It  looked  very  little  to  last 
until  she  could  buy  more  (she  intended  to  find 
work  at  a  farmhouse,  returning  home  in  the 
course  of  time  robed  in  silks  saved  from  her 
earnings)  but  it  would  be  hard  to  carry  more. 
And  liow  was  she  to  carry  these?  Calico  hated 
bundles  tied  to  his  otherwise  willing  back. 


CAROLINE  COGITATES          27 

In  her  extremity  she  spied  a  bold  red  and  yel- 
low bandanna  handkerchief  that  Maum  Rachel 
had  dropped  in  her  flight.  It  was  just  the  thing. 
She  folded  the  comb  and  toothbrush  in  the  under- 
wear, and  dropping  them  into  the  handkerchief 
tied  the  corners  securely. 

Then  she  went  back  to  the  window  and  took 
another  look  at  the  night. 

It  was  raining!  A  soft  patter  played  on  the 
flagstones  below. 

"I  can't  go  in  the  rain.  I  would  spoil  every- 
thing," she  thought,  extending  her  hand  to  make 
sure  her  ears  were  not  deceiving  her.  Well,  I 
will  dress  just  the  same  and  be  ready  when  it 
stops. 

She  was  some  time  getting  her  hair  into  two 
smooth  braids:  Leigh  usually  gave  it  a  final 
touch  and  perked  the  hair  ribbon  that  caught 
them  together  at  the  nape  of  her  neck. 

There  were  three  buttons  in  the  back  of  the 
dress  that  disdained  the  holes  provided  for  them; 
so  they  were  left  yawning,  and  as  Mayre  had 
helped  herself  to  the  brown  stockings  that  went 
with  the  dress,  black  were  substituted. 

More  and  more  inviting  looked  the  great  bed. 
Caroline  stepped  on  the  box  and  ran  her  hand 
across  the  immaculate  bolster  that,  in  the  Rav- 
enel  family,  took  the  place  of  pillows.  It  was 
soft  and  downy. 


28        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"I  reckon  maybe  I  had  better  rest  with  my 
clothes  on  till  day-light,"  she  decided  and,  taking 
off  her  shoes,  climbed  in  between  the  fragrant 
sheets  and  pulled  the  blankets  over  her. 

When  she  awoke  faint  streaks  of  dawn  were 
coloring  the  horizon.  The  rain  had  stopped,  but 
damp,  misty  air  floated  in  through  the  window 
with  a  promise  of  showers. 

The  house  was  as  silent  as  a  tomb.  The  Rav- 
enels  (especially  since  the  doctor's  illness)  were 
late  risers.  The  negroes'  quarters  were  down  in 
the  field  back  of  the  barn.  They,  too,  were  safe 
for  another  hour. 

Caroline  held  her  breath  as  she  opened  her 
door  and  crept  down  the  old  stairs  that  creaked 
in  spite  of  her  careful  steps :  she  had  taken  the 
precaution  to  carry  her  shoes.  In  the  kitchen 
she  stopped  and  leisurely  laced  them,  taking  time 
to  visit  the  bread  box  and  doughnut  jar  on  her 
way  out. 

The  rest  was  easy.  Calico  needed  no  saddle. 
He  was  quite  accustomed  to  the  weight  of  his 
small  mistress  who  nestled  like  thistledown  on 
his  back.  His  great,  honest  eyes  seemed  scarcely 
inquiring  as  she  bridled  him. 

Before  the  smoke  had  begun  to  wreathe  up- 
ward from  Maum  Rachel's  shanty,  the  two  were 
miles  down  the  valley. 


CHAPTER    III 
FAMILY  AFFAIRS 

THERE  was  nothing  that  gave  Mrs.  Rav- 
enel  more  pleasure  than  to  sit  on  the 
broad  veranda  on  a  summer  evening, 
her  white  jeweled  hands   (she  had  managed  to 
hold  to  her  beautiful  rings  despite  vicissitudes) 
complacently  crossed  at  her  no  longer  slender 
waist,  and  recount  to  a  casual  guest  the  many 
interesting  events  that  had  taken  place  in  her 
life. 

At  forty,  her  face,  round  and  sweet,  was  as 
unlined  and  serene  as  a  girl's  of  twenty,  though 
her  slow  manner  of  speech,  her  polished  diction, 
her  general  air  of  dignity  hinted  at  the  well- 
seasoned  fifties. 

She  usually  began  with  her  girlhood,  that  re- 
construction period  when  the  South,  bleeding 
and  devastated,  had  begun  to  react  from  the 
hardships  put  upon  it.  Much  of  the  Kirtley 
fortune  had  been  swrept  into  the  general  abyss 
caused  by  war.  Piece  by  piece  land  had  been 
sold  until  only  the  old  home  and  a  badly  man- 


30        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

aged  plantation  which  yielded  a  negligible  in- 
come were  left. 

She  often  dwelt,  with  dreamy  eyes,  on  her 
youthful  romance  which  began  at  nineteen,  when 
she  went  to  Kichmond  to  visit  a  relative.  It  was 
there  she  had  met  Bob  Eavenel,  one  of  the  Rav- 
enels  of  Virginia,  handsome,  well  educated,  with 
a  brilliant  future  stretching  before  him.  He  had 
come  from  a  line  of  physicians  and  surgeons,  and 
people  were  wont  to  declare  that  success  was  his 
birthright. 

And  so  it  had  seemed.  There  were  a  dozen  or 
more  happy  years  spent  in  wandering  over  the 
globe  —  the  usual  lot  of  the  army  man  —  and 
then,  suddenly,  up  in  Alaska  where  the  cold  cuts 
like  a  knife,  grippe  had  seized  him  —  seized  and 
shaken  him  until  his  sensitive  throat  and  lungs 
became  weakened  and  inflamed. 

A  change  to  a  milder  climate  proved  beneficial, 
but  an  army  man  cannot  choose  his  habitation ; 
frequent  changes  aggravated  his  condition. 
Finally  there  had  come  a  breakdown,  the  winter 
after  Hope  was  born,  and  the  old  house  in  the 
South,  shabby  and  run  down  as  it  was,  seemed 
a  haven  to  the  anxious  family. 

It  was  not  a  good  move,  but  rest,  open  air,  and 
the  comforts  of  home  will  do  wonders  toward 
arresting  disease.  For  a  time  Doctor  Eavenel 
improved,  and  they  lingered  on,  hoping  with  each 


FAMILY  AFFAIRS  31 

coming  year  his  health  would  again  permit  him 
to  take  up  the  duties  he  loved. 

Mrs.  Ravenel  usually  passed  over  those  anxious 
days  of  her  married  life  and  proceeded  with  the 
children.  First  had  come  Leigh.  "My  precious 
responsibility,"  she  would  sigh  and  wipe  the 
tears  from  her  mild  blue  eyes. 

"Alison  followed  in  two  years,  and  in  two 
years  more  Mayre  blessed  us  with  her  happy 
little  presence;  Mayre  (here  the  conversation 
was  usually  deflected  for  a  family  confidence  — 
that  is,  if  the  visitor  were  intimate  enough  to  be 
admitted  to  family  confidences)  named  for  St. 
Ivans  Mayre  of  Richmond :  you  see,  we  had  hoped 
for  a  son,  and  —  well  —  having  selected  the 
name,  we  let  it  stand.  It  does  quite  as  well  for 
a  girl  as  a  boy,  and  has  the  merit  of  distinction." 

There  was  always  a  pause  after  that  announce- 
ment. A  pause  that  was  sometimes  long,  some- 
times short: 

"Then  came  Caroline!" 

The  tone  and  inflection  depended  a  good  deal 
upon  Caroline  herself.  If,  by  chance,  on  the  day 
the  story  was  being  told,  she  had  thrown  off  her 
Hyde  wickedness  and  shown  her  Jekyll  nature, 
the  information  was  apt  to  give  the  impression 
that  Caroline  was  a  direct  dispensation  of  provi- 
dence, but,  alas,  it  quite  as  often  came  in  a  tone 
that  closely  resembled  a  groan. 


32        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"Our  fourth  daughter,  Caroline,"  the  story 
went  on,  "is  a  very  unusual  child.  Full  of  viva- 
city, which  sometimes  develops  into  distinct 
naughtiness.  Her  father  is  the  only  person  who 
really  understands  her,  possibly  because  she  is  a 
Kavenel  of  the  first  water;  his  patience  with  her 
is  really  marvelous." 

Then  followed  the  debit  and  credit  side  of 
Caroline's  nature,  "She  is  mischievous,  wilful, 
an  unmerciful  tease;  she  is  slow  to  wrath,  but 

when  once  aroused "  the  lifting  of  Mrs.  Kav- 

enel's  plump  hands  spoke  more  than  words. 

"But  on  the  other  hand  she  is  sympathetic  to 
a  degree;  just  and  generous;  gifted  with  an 
imagination  that  is  equally  the  pride  and  the 
torment  of  the  family." 

"When  Caroline  takes  it  into  her  head  to  do 

a  thing "  Mrs.  Kavenel  always  stopped  there, 

shaking  her  head.  No  word  had  yet  been  found 
to  describe  her  daughter's  determination. 

Often  there  followed  a  line  of  anecdotes  that 
unwittingly  sidetracked  the  story  of  Hope's  ad- 
vent in  the  family  circle;  but  Hope  was  in- 
clined to  pale  before  the  colorful  Caroline,  liter- 
ally as  well  as  figuratively. 

There  was  always  the  story  of  how  one  morn- 
ing in  her  fourth  year,  Caroline  had  escaped 
Maum  Rachel's  watchful  eye  and  followed  her 
mother  to  church,  appearing  in  a  nightgown  still 


FAMILY  AFFAIRS  33 

dripping  with  the  syrup  from  flannel  cakes, 
swinging  a  soiled  and  dilapidated  infant  by  a 
partially  dissevered  arm,  calling  joyously: 
"Look,  Muwer,  I  fpund  Long  Honey !"  —  her 
own  name  for  a  doll  relegated  to  the  ash  barrel. 

There  was  the  pathetic  tale  of  the  town  crier 
who  had  tramped  the  streets  for  hours,  his  voice 
raised  in  a  persistent,  "Child  lost !  Child  lost !" 
and  a  detailed  description  of  Caroline's  overtures 
to  a  goat.  There  were  the  measles,  the  whoop- 
ing cough,  ugly  scratches  from  stray  cats,  sun- 
dry frights  of  kidnapping:  all  of  which  passed 
over  her  like  a  summer  shower. 

Doctor  Ravenel  was  the  direct  antithesis  of 
his  wife :  a  silent,  scholarly  man  with  keen,  dark 
eyes,  always  inscrutable ;  a  whimsical  mouth  that 
belied  a  general  sternness ;  a  deep,  musical  voice 
and  a  pervading  atmosphere  of  reliability. 

Although  the  modest  sign,  "Robert  E.  Ravenel, 
Physician  and  Surgeon",  that  hung  on  the  office 
side  of  the  house  announced  his  willingness  to 
serve  the  public,  his  strength,  or  lack  of  it,  pro- 
hibited an  extensive  practice.  Frequent  consul- 
tations and  an  occasional  operation  (some  pre- 
ferred trusting  him  even  in  his  enfeebled  state 
to  chancing  another)  helped  to  eke  out  a  living, 
and  there  was,  of  course,  his  pay  as  a  retired 
army  officer. 

He  lived  in  the  anticipation  of  complete  re- 


34        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

covery,  his  naturally  strong  constitution  and  in- 
herited physique  contributing  largely  to  his 
faith.  He  knew,  however,  that  he  could  not  hope 
to  battle  against  the  odds  of  Virginia's  moist 
climate  and  was  continually  on  the  lookout  for 
a  chance  to  dispose  of  his  property  and  estab- 
lish himself  in  the  mountains  of  Colorado  or 
Arizona. 

With  this,  be  it  said  in  all  fairness,  Mrs.  Kave- 
nel  was  in  absolute  accord.  She  loved  her  South- 
land, her  undisputed  social  position,  her  old 
friends,  but  years  of  army  life  had  freed  her 
from  prejudices:  she  knew  that  cultivated  peo- 
ple could  be  found  in  a  wilderness  (experience 
had  proved  it ) ,  and  ten  or  twelve  years  of  wan- 
dering had  changed  her  home-loving  nature  to 
nomadic  independence. 

At  home,  Mrs.  Kavenel  was  petted  and  adored 
by  an  admiring  household,  her  natural  sweet- 
ness and  charm  penetrating  every  barrier.  The 
negroes  worshipped  her.  Her  children  vied  with 
each  other  in  attention  to  her;  her  husband 
(whether  or  not  he  approved  of  her  laxness  and 
indolence),  shared  in  the  general  admiration, 
though  he  lived  his  live  outside  the  narrow  circle 
that  bounded  hers. 

It  was  Leigh  upon  whom  he  depended.  She 
took  care  of  his  office,  kept  his  books,  answered 
calls;  saw  that  his  instruments  were  cleaned 


FAMILY  AFFAIRS  35 

and  sterilized;  sometimes,  in  an  emergency,  she 
administered  an  anesthetic,  or  drove  with  him  to 
a  charity  case,  lending  sympathy  and  interest. 

Not  that  he  willingly  imposed  upon  her :  often 
her  pale  face  and  halting  step  haunted  him  far 
into  the  night.  But  it  was  Leigh  —  or  failure. 

And,  in  justice  to  the  household,  it  must  be 
said  that  it  was  difficult  to  realize  that  one  was 
imposing  upon  Leigh.  She  was  so  cheery,  so 
willing,  so  interested  —  and  always  so  humor- 
ous. 

"I'm  Biddy  the  cook,"  she  would  say  with  a 
laugh  when  Maum  Rachel's  rheumatism  took 
her  to  bed ;  or  "Alfred  the  butler",  as  she  served 
a  belated  luncheon.  Often  she  was  "Jake  the 
stoker",  "Mary  Jane  the  housemaid",  "Miss 
Sedden  the  seamstress"  and  always  "Mrs.  Part- 
ington,  the  housekeeper." 

But  if  Leigh  was  her  father's  stay  and  com- 
fort, Caroline  was  his  pride  and  recreation.  He 
loved  her  with  a  consuming  tenderness,  watch- 
ing the  unfolding  of  her  mind  as  a  naturalist 
watches  the  blossoming  of  a  precious  bud.  She 
was  his  hybrid.  He  understood  the  diverse  and 
often  incongruous  elements  in  her  make-up: 
from  the  Kirtleys  she  had  inherited  her  sympa- 
thies, her  understanding  of  human  nature,  a  cer- 
tain adaptability;  from  them  also  came  charm 
of  manner,  almost  a  trick,  in  its  irresistible 


36        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

persuasiveness.  From  his  own  line  descended 
the  more  dominant  traits :  a  strong  will,  a  keen 
mind,  leadership. 

He  also  knew  the  weedy  spots ;  where  to  prune, 
where  to  cultivate.  He  was  never  too  ill  to 
straighten  out  her  difficulties,  to  encourage  her 
better  moods  and  enforce  the  law  in  trying  ones. 


CHAPTER  IV 

CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH 

SUNKISE,  to  Caroline,  was  a  new  and  thril- 
ling experience.  The  rosy  glow  that 
brought  splendor  to  the  east  decided  her 
destination. 

"We'll  ride  right  into  it,  Calico,"  she  said, 
leaning  to  pat  the  horse's  satin  shoulder.  "It's 
so  soft  and  billowy,  like  the  silk  rainbow  shawl 
up  in  the  attic  that  belonged  to  Grandmother 
Kirtley.  You  would  sort  of  like  to  feel  it  around 
you." 

As  a  rule,  Caroline  cared  very  little  for  nature. 
People  interested  her.  Therefore  she  turned  her 
attention  along  the  way  to  the  farmhouses,  just 
beginning  to  show  signs  of  life.  Now  and  then 
a  negro  woman  emerged  from  a  cabin  to  throw 
out  a  pan  of  water,  or  a  man  entered  a  field, 
anxious  to  get  an  early  start  at  his  work. 

The  sun  had  scattered  the  lowering  clouds. 
They  shifted  to  the  west,  giving  Caroline  the 
feeling  that  she  was  riding  out  of  storm  into  a 
new  and  unexplored  fairyland. 


38        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

She  gave  Calico  the  reins.  "You  choose,"  she 
whispered  with  another  pat.  "You  choose  the 
road,  and  I  will  choose  the  house  I  want  to  live 
in  when  I  come  to  it." 

The  rose  tints  in  the  east  gave  place  to  palest 
gray.  More  people  stirred.  Now  and  then  a 
child  rushed  from  a  farmhouse  door  with  an 
energetic  whoop,  and  once  a  little  girl  waved  a 
salute  from  a  tumbledown  veranda. 

Caroline  galloped  on.  She  came  at  last  to  a 
high,  grass-grown  field  that  skirted  an  old  estate. 
Calico  stopped  at  the  gate. 

"Think  you  would  like  to  go  in,  would  you?" 
she  asked  obligingly.  "All  right.  I  will  let 
down  the  bars;  but  I  don't  think  we  will  stay. 
People  in  big  houses  always  have  plenty  of  help. 
They  wouldn't  need  me,  I  am  sure." 

She  followed  a  fascinating  old  path  through 
the  trees  by  a  brook,  letting  Calico  drink  from 
the  clear  stream  to  his  heart's  content;  then  she 
walked  for  a  while  beside  him  as  he  nibbled  at 
the  sweet  grass.  It  was  very  still.  In  the  oaks, 
birds  chattered  and  sang,  sometimes  stopping 
to  quarrel  over  morning  duties,  Caroline  sus- 
pected, as  they  whirled  and  pivoted  and  shook 
their  saucy  little  heads. 

She  had  gone  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
through  the  field  when  she  came  upon  an  old 
chest  set  on  a  well-kept  mound.  It  was  heavy 


CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH      39 

and  ponderous,  encased  in  copper  bands  that  had 
grown  dull  and  rusty. 

Caroline  stood  before  it,  deeply  interested. 
Where  had  she  heard  a  story  about  an  old  chest 
that  stood  on  a  mound? 

She  remembered  presently  and  looked  about. 
This  was  —  it  must  be  —  the  box  that  held  the 
ashes  of  her  grandfather's  friend,  General  Kut- 
ledge.  Everybody  in  Warrensburg  knew  Rut- 
ledge  Heights,  and  the  tale  of  old  General 
Rutledge  who,  fifty  years  ahead  of  his  time,  had 
insisted  upon  being  cremated. 

She  stood  for  a  few  minutes  deep  in  thought. 
Then,  tying  Calico  to  a  near-by  tree,  she  stripped 
from  one  of  the  branches  a  long,  thin  switch. 

Calico  turned  an  inquiring  eye  upon  her  as 
she  applied  it  to  the  keyhole  of  the  old  box,  but 
she  was  too  intent  to  notice. 

Several  times  the  switch  went  in  and  out, 
turned  over  and  swished  through  consecrated  air. 
Caroline  examined  it  as  it  came  forth,  minutely, 
patiently.  She  even  procured  a  longer,  thinner 
one,  applying  it  still  more  dexterously.  Not  an 
ash  adhered  to  the  stripped  sapling. 

"It's  just  one  of  those  darkey  lies,"  she  con- 
fided to  Calico  in  disgust,  flinging  away  the  third 
switch.  "If  there  were  ashes  there  you  could 
hear  them,  I  reckon,  even  if  you  couldn't  get 
them  through  the  keyhole !" 


40        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

They  wandered  for  some  time  after  they  left 
Kutledge  field.  The  farms  were  lying  a  little  far- 
ther apart.  Caroline  began  to  eye  them  care- 
fully. 

"I  love  you,  I  love  you  not,"  she  said,  playing 
an  old  game  with  a  new  zest. 

Finally  she  came  to  a  neat  white  cottage  peep- 
ing through  two  giant  trees.  A  boy  was  scrub- 
bing a  scrap  of  a  veranda,  whistling  a  merry  tune 
as  he  worked. 

"That's  a  nice  looking  place,"  she  thought.  "I 
reckon  I  had  better  go  on  past  it  and  send  Calico 
back  home :  then  they  will  think  I  came  from  the 
other  way." 

It  was  a  little  harder  to  say  good-bye  to  Calico 
than  she  had  thought  it  would  be,  but  she  took 
off  his  bridle  —  it  was  an  old  one  made  of  rope  — 
and  tossing  it  to  one  side  of  the  road  ordered 
him  home. 

The  boy  looked  up  with  surprise  as  she  came 
down  the  path. 

"Hello,"  he  said  pleasantly,  wonder  growing 
in  his  eyes. 

"Good  morning,"  Caroline  replied  in  her  best 
company  tones. 

There  was  a  pause.  Caroline  hesitated  to  step 
on  his  clean  veranda, 

"Want  to  speak  to  Maw?"  he  inquired. 

"Yes ;  if  she  is  not  too  busy." 


CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH      41 

"She's  always  that,"  the  lad  answered,  and 
Caroline's  spirits  rose. 

She  followed  him  to  the  back  of  the  house. 
A  small  gallery  —  cluttered  with  farm  instru- 
ments, an  ice-box  and  several  pairs  of  muddy 
boots  set  in  a  neat  row  —  ran  the  length  of  the 
kitchen.  The  boy  scraped  his  feet  on  a  piece  of 
rag  carpet.  Caroline  followed  his  example  while 
he  went  indoors. 

A  tall,  tired-looking  woman  in  a  red-and- white 
striped  gingham  frock  that  made  her  look  like  a 
stick  of  peppermint  candy  peered  out  over  the 
boy's  shoulder. 

"You  want  me?"  she  asked,  squinting  out  into 
the  sunshine. 

"I  would  like  to  speak  to  you  if  you  please," 
Caroline  admitted,  her  heart  fluttering  wildly. 

"Come  in  then.  I'm  busy  a-bakin'.  Set  there, 
•will  you?" 

She  pulled  up  a  reed-bottomed  chair,  although 
she  went  on  with  her  work  plunging  doughnuts 
into  hot  fat. 

"These  here  things  is  just  where  I  can't  leave 
'em,"  she  mumbled  over  her  shoulder. 

Caroline  sat  still  until  the  little  fat  rings  came 
out,  brown  and  crisp.  It  was  a  nice  place  to  sit, 
the  kitchen  was  so  clean  and  spicy,  and  over  by 
the  stove  where  the  big  black  teakettle  steamed 
and  hummed,  a  great  yellow  cat  stretched  its 


42        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

length  on  a  braided  rug.  Caroline  stooped  and 
drew  it  up  on  her  lap. 

The  woman  turned  at  last  with  a  questioning 
stare. 

Caroline's  lips  trembled,  then  broke  in  their 
sweetest  smile.  "I  hope  the  —  your  —  husband 
is  well,"  she  said  kindly. 

It  was  the  thing  callers  invariably  greeted  her 
mother  with :  "I  hope  the  doctor  is  well,"  so  of 
course  it  was  the  way  to  begin  the  present 
conversation. 

"Fair  to  middling"  the  woman  answered. 

"And  your  family " 

"  'Bout  as  common." 

"It  is  a  wonderful  autumn  we  are  having," 
Caroline  ventured,  remembering  the  next  step. 

"A  bit  dampish." 

From  the  dusk  of  the  next  room  (the  blinds 
were  still  drawn)  two  awed  gray  eyes  feasted 
upon  Caroline's  troubled  ones.  She  wished  the 
boy  would  attend  to  his  business.  It  was  a  little 
hard  to  stick  to  the  weather,  and  she  wouldn't 
go  on  until  he  moved. 

"Sam,  are  them  steps  done?"  his  mother  asked, 
following  Caroline's  wandering  gaze. 

"Yes'm." 

"Then  you  can  go  down  to  the  barn  and  get  me 
the  rest  of  them  eggs.  Your  Paw  wants  johnny- 
cake  fer  dinner." 


CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH      43 

Sam  reluctantly  crossed  the  room  and  saunt- 
ered toward  the  barn. 

"You  had  business  with  me?"  the  woman  asked, 
glancing  toward  her  neglected  baking.  "This 
bein'  Saturday,  I'm  a  little  rushed.  My  man's 
Bister,  Eliza  Wall,  died  last  week,  and  Elmiry, 
my  gal,  had  to  go  over  and  help  tend  the 
babies  -  " 

Eliza's  misfortune  was  Caroline's  opportunity. 

"That's  just  what  I  called  about,"  she  said 
quickly.  "Would  you  like  a  lady  to  help  you  for 
a  while  -  " 

"What  lady?" 

Caroline  laid  a  humble  hand  upon  her  breast. 

"Me." 


"Yes." 

"What  kin  you  do?  You  ain't  bigger'n  a  pint 
a  cider." 

Caroline  bristled.  "I  can  wash  dishes  and 
make  beds  -  " 

"Where  you  been  livin'?" 

"In  —  in  the  city." 

"What  family?" 

"And  I  can  take  care  of  children,"  Caroline 
went  on  quickly,  "and  run  errands  and  play  the 
piano  a  little  -  " 

"What  wages  you  been  gettin'?" 

It  was  fortunate  the  question  was  put  in  just 


44        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

that  way,  for  it  enabled  Caroline  to  speak  truth- 
fully. 

"Twenty-five  cents  a  week,"  she  answered  un- 
hesitatingly. That  was  her  allowance,  though 
ten  of  it  always  had  to  go  to  Sunday  school. 

The  woman's  doubtful  glance  swept  Caroline's 
dress,  her  new  shoes  and  sailor  hat. 

"You  can  do  better  than  most  of  us  if  you  can 
dress  like  that  on  them  wages,"  she  said  skepti- 
cally, "but  I  am  willing  to  raise  you  a  quarter 
if  you  kin  stay  till  Elmiry  gits  home.  I'm  plum 
give  out  with  the  cookin'  and  all.  Maybe  you  can 
take  Sally  Anne  offen  my  hands;  she's  cuttin', 
and  crosser'n  two  sticks  most  of  the  day." 

A  wail  from  an  adjoining  room  claimed  the 
attention  of  the  farmer's  wife. 

"My  name's  Mrs.  Watts,"  she  said,  as  she 
turned  toward  the  door.  "What's  yourn?" 

"Marcella,"  Caroline  answered  quickly.  The 
name  had  been  acquired  on  the  road  down  the 
valley. 

"All  right,  you  don't  look  like  you'd  be  much 
help,  but  you  can  lay  off  yer  things  in  the  parlor 
— that  door  there,  and  change  your  clothes.  I'll 
dress  the  baby  while  you  change ;  she  don't  like 
strangers.  Then  you  can  wheel  her  in  the  yard 
till  I  need  you." 

The  morning  passed  swiftly.  Sally  Anne 
proved  appreciative.  She  cooed  and  chuckled 


CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH      45 

over  Caroline's  funny  faces  (Caroline  was  an 
adept  at  making  them),  falling  asleep  with  a 
smile  on  her  lips. 

"That  young  'un  sure  knows  how  to  tend  kids," 
Mrs.  Watts  said  to  her  husband,  when  he  came 
in  to  wash  for  dinner.  "She's  worth  fifty  cents 
a  week  —  if  she'll  stay.  I  got  a  hunch  she's  run 
away  from  home  or  something.  She  don't  look 
like  nothin'  I've  seen  round  these  parts.  She's 
gentry,  er  mighty  close  related." 

All  of  which  made  Mr.  Watts  scrutinize  the 
young  "help"  with  puzzled  eyes,  as  he  served 
her  to  corn  beef  and  cabbage. 

More  than  once  during  the  meal  Caroline  felt 
those  inquiring  eyes  upon  her  and  modestly 
dropped  her  own. 

She  noticed  that  when  dinner  was  over  the 
farmer  beckoned  his  wife  into  the  parlor,  where 
he  detained  her  for  a  few  minutes.  Returning, 
they  gazed  with  renewed  interest. 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Watts  when  he  had  changed 
his  coat  and  run  a  comb  through  his  shaggy 
beard,  "I'm  off  for  town.  Ain't  anybody  round 
here  would  like  to  go  with  me,  I  reckon." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Caroline, 
glancing  up,  fancied  she  caught  a  wink  directed 
toward  his  wife. 

"No  —  not  unless  —  what's  yer  name  —  Mar- 
celly?  —  wants  to  quit  her  job " 


46        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"Oh,  no,  I  am  satisfied  if  you  are,"  "Marcelly" 
interrupted. 

Mrs.  Watts  assisted  her  husband  with  the  load 
of  butter,  eggs  and  vegetables  which  he  carried 
to  the  city  every  Saturday,  and  returned  to  the 
kitchen. 

"You  can  clear  up  the  dishes,"  she  said  to 
Caroline,  "and  wash  'em  over  there  on  the  table." 

She  laid  out  a  handful  of  neatly  hemmed  flour 
sacks. 

"There's  yer  towels,  an'  you'll  find  soft  soap  in 
the  can  on  the  shelf  by  the  stove.  Get  'em 
good  and  clean;  I  can't  abide  greasy  dishes. 
Ain't  you  got  any  other  dress  but  that?" 

Caroline  shook  her  head. 

Mrs.  Watts  disappeared  for  a  minute  bringing 
back  a  faded  blue  cotton  slip. 

"Here's  Elmiry's  work  dress;  put  it  on,"  she 
invited. 

Caroline  thought  that  she  would  never  come 
to  the  end  of  the  dishes  piled  before  her.  She 
didn't  know  very  much  about  doing  dishes,  any- 
way. Occasionally  she  had  wiped  them  —  under 
protest  —  for  Leigh  when  Maum  Rachel  took  to 
bed.  Mrs.  Watts,  passing  through  the  room, 
stormed  when  she  saw  the  thick  cups  and  sauc- 
ers nestling  beside  a  black  pot  in  the  greasy  dish- 
water. 

"Lord  a  massy,"  she  shrilled,  "I  thought  you 


CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH      47 

said  you  knew  how  to  work!"  She  ran  her 
hand  down  the  side  of  the  pan  and  extricated 
three  forks  and  a  spoon.  "Silver,  too,"  she 
sputtered.  "That's  great  dishwashin' !" 

She  emptied  the  pan  and  carrying  the  water 
to  the  yard  threw  it  out  with  a  jerk. 

Caroline  began  again  with  fresh  water.  By 
the  time  she  finished,  she  was  standing  first  on 
one  foot  and  then  the  other.  Her  Sunday  shoes 
were  not  quite  "broken",  and  they  burned  her 
tired  feet. 

"Reckon  you  can  come  down  with  me  to  the 
milk  house  and  churn  a  while,"  Mrs.  Watts  sug- 
gested, when  the  last  dish  was  dried  and  set  on 
the  pantry  shelf. 

Caroline  loved  the  milk  house  from  the  mo- 
ment she  came  upon  it:  it  might  have  been  a 
little  playhouse  with  its  thatched  roof  and 
latched  door. 

And  inside  it  was  so  cool  and  fresh,  so  fragrant 
of  new  cheese  and  sweet  butter.  The  brown 
bowls  that  lined  the  spotless  shelves,  the  shining 
tin  pans  filled  to  the  brim  with  the  yellowest 
of  yellow  cream,  the  soft  red  earthenware  crocks 
pushed  back  against  the  whitewashed  walls  made 
a  picture  never  to  be  forgotten. 

"Oh,  what  a  nice  clean  place,"  she  said,  as  Mrs. 
Watts  placed  a  stool  before  an  old-fashioned 
churn. 


48        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

But  the  charm  of  the  room  soon  faded  in 
weariness.  Caroline,  according  to  instruction, 
pumped  the  dasher  up  and  down  in  the  keg 
until  her  arms  ached.  Once  in  a  while  she 
stopped  to  rest,  but  the  farmer's  wife  urged  her 
on  saying: 

"  'Never  get  discouraged  in  well  doin' ;'  that's 
what  my  mother  always  told  me  when  I  was 
little.  It's  comin'.  See  how  hard  the  dasher 
pulls  —  the  cream's  thickeninV 

The  butter  did  "come"  at  last.  Mrs.  Watts 
opened  the  keg,  scooped  out  the  yellow  lumps, 
squeezed  them  free  of  water  and  began  to  mold 
them  into  rich  golden  mounds.  She  tossed  and 
patted,  weighed  and  paddled  with  the  skill  of 
an  expert.  Caroline  watched  her  admiringly. 

"I  never  knew  before  just  how  butter  was 
made,"  she  said  appreciatively.  "It  takes  lots 
of  time,  doesn't  it?  And  its  pretty  when  you 
get  it  into  those  nice  round  cakes." 

Mrs.  Watts  was  too  tired  to  answer.  Butter, 
to  her,  was  an  old  story;  she  saw  no  beauty 
in  it. 

Caroline  hoped  that  she  would  be  invited  to 
rest  after  the  butter  was  put  in  the  stone  crocks, 
but  Mrs.  Watts'  "you  can  peel  the  pertaters  now 
for  supper,  and  then  amuse  Sally  Anne;  this  is 
her  fussy  time,  long  'bout  five  o'clock,"  roused 
her  to  further  effort. 


CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH      49 

The  potatoes  peeled  and  put  in  cold  water, 
Sally  Anne  was  wheeled  to  the  farthest  end  of 
the  pasture.  She  was  fussy,  no  question  about 
that.  Nothing  pleased  her. 

Caroline  loaded  the  cart  with  flowers  and 
pretty  stones  and  odds  and  ends  of  toys  that  Mrs. 
Watts  had  sent  along,  but  Sally  Anne  spurned 
them  all. 

"It  won't  hurt  her  to  fuss  a  little,"  Caroline 
thought,  after  an  hour's  conscientious  effort  at 
entertainment,  and  throwing  herself  down  in 
the  cool,  tangled  grass,  slept  from  sheer  ex- 
haustion. 

She  was  awakened  by  a  sudden  thump  beside 
her.  Sally  Anne,  demanding  attention,  had 
leaped  from  her  carriage,  landing  on  a  rock  half 
hidden  in  the  grass.  Her  piercing  screams 
brought  Mrs.  Watts  on  a  run. 

"What's  the  matter?"  the  frightened  woman 
called  in  a  frenzied  tone,  before  she  reached  the 
scene  of  disaster. 

"Nothing.  She  just  fell  out  of  her  buggy;  I 
don't  think  it  hurt  her  much.  She's  scared,  that's 
all." 

An  ugly  green  and  crimson  bump  on  the  baby's 
forehead  shamed  Caroline  the  rest  of  the  day. 
She  was  relieved  from  a  nurse  girl's  duties  and 
set  to  picking  chickens  for  Sunday's  dinner. 

"I  can't  do  this,"  she  rebelled,  after  trying 


50        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

for  several  minutes.  "It  makes  me  sick.  I 
reckon  I  had  better  be  goin'." 

She  hadn't  the  remotest  idea  where,  but  a 
night  spent  in  the  open  field  under  the  stars 
would  be  better  than  the  odor  that  penetrated 
from  the  dirty,  wet  fowls. 

The  chickens  were  turned  over  to  Sam,  the 
boy  who  had  welcomed  her  in  the  morning. 

"I  think  you'd  better  stay  right  on  here — least- 
;ways  till  Watts  gets  back  from  town,"  the  farm- 
er's wife  declared,  then,  noticing  the  drooping, 
dejected  head,  added :  "If  you  want  to,  you  can 
go  up  in  Elmiry's  room  and  rest  for  a  half-hour 
before  supper." 

Caroline  gratefully  welcomed  the  suggestion 
and  climbed  the  narrowT  attic  stairs. 

Elmiry's  room  was  small,  but  it  was  clean 
and  restful.  A  brilliant  rag  carpet  half  covered 
the  floor  and  pretty  white  curtains,  feather- 
stitched  in  blue,  fluttered  in  the  cool,  sweet- 
scented  breeze  that  floated  through  the  window. 

The  bed  looked  lumpy,  but  Caroline  turned 
back  the  spread  and,  taking  off  her  shoes,  lay 
down  contentedly.  Her  head  had  scarcely 
touched  the  pillow  before  she  slept  —  so  soundly 
that  it  took  several  of  Sam's  noisy  thumps  on 
the  door  to  rouse  her.  She  jumped  up  quickly. 

Twilight  had  crept  on,  and  the  strange  room 
was  swallowed  in  shadows.  For  a  moment  Caro- 


CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH      51 

line  couldn't  think  where  she  was,  but  Sam's 
good-natured  voice  calling  her  to  supper  re- 
minded her.  She  choked  back  a  sob  that  rose  in 
her  throat  and  put  on  her  shoes. 

The  family  had  drawn  around  the  table  when 
she  came  down  stairs.  Mr.  Watts  was  extremely 
pleasant.  He  helped  her  to  a  bowl  of  soup  and 
inquired  as  to  how  she  enjoyed  farm  life. 

Caroline  watched  him  as  he  broke  a  handful 
of  crackers  into  his  soup  and  gulped  the  mixture 
noisly.  She  looked  about.  Mrs.  Watts  and  Sam 
were  following  suit,  so  she  crumbled  hers  daintily, 
thinking  how  aghast  her  mother  would  be  if  she 
could  see  her.  She  also  poured  her  tea  in  the 
saucer  of  her  cup  and,  with  courtesy  that  was  at 
base  kindness,  supped  it  lustily.  She  scarcely 
understood  why  so  much  noise  was  demanded  of 
so  simple  a  performance,  and  good  taste  forbade 
inquiry. 

Her  appetite  seemed  strangely  inadequate  to 
the  array  of  food  set  before  her.  But  everybody 
was  kind.  Now  and  then  Sam  smiled  at  her, 
pushing  the  apple  sauce  and  plum  butter  closer, 
and  Mrs.  Watts  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the 
baby's  bruises. 

They  were  half  through  the  meal  when  Mrs. 
Watts  said: 

"I  reckon  you  saw  them  parties  you  set  out  to 
look  for  this  afternoon?" 


52        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Her  husband  nodded. 

"It  was  —  as  you  thought?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  knew  I  was  right,"  he  replied. 

"Was  they  much  put  out?" 

"Eight  smart." 

The  conversation  was  quickly  abandoned. 

Sam  hospitably  proposed  a  game  of  jack- 
straws  after  the  dishes  were  washed,  but  Caro- 
line was  too  sleepy.  She  had  all  but  dozed  at 
the  supper  table. 

"I  reckon  you  had  better  go  'long  to  bed,"  Mrs. 
Watts  said.  "An'  tomorrer  bein'  Sunday,  you 
kin  sleep  late.  We  don't  ever  stir  until  six 
o'clock  Sundays." 

She  lighted  the  way  up  the  dark  stairs  with 
a  tallow  candle,  and  closing  Elmiry's  window, 
set  it  on  the  stand. 

"Good  night,"  she  said  kindly,  as  she  closed 
the  door.  "You  don't  need  to  be  a  bit  afraid. 
We  sleep  right  under  this  room.  Ain't  nothin' 
goin'  to  hurt  you.  Don't  forget  to  blow  out  the 
light" 

"May  I  have  the  window  open,  please?"  Caro- 
line begged. 

"Open!  At  night?  Land  sakes!  You'd  catch 
yer  death.  Ain't  nothin'  worse  than  night  air: 
it's  goin'  to  rain,  anyway." 

Caroline  did  not  argue,  but  when  the  footsteps 
died  on  the  stair,  she  stealthily  lifted  the  rickety 


CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH      53 

frame  that  held  a  strip  of  cracked  glass  and  put 
a  stick  under  it. 

For  all  she  was  so  tired,  she  could  not  sleep. 
Strange  sounds  rose  above  the  patter  of  the  rain : 
the  bark  of  a  dog,  now  and  then  a  cat's  howl';  a 
mad  scampering  between  the  thinly  partitioned 
walls;  steady  resounding  snores  from  the  room 
below. 

Her  frightened  eyes  strained  into  the  darkness. 
Somehow,  in  retrospect,  her  adventure  lacked 
excitement.  And  her  joy  in  picturing  the  sorrow 
and  fright  of  her  family  faded  in  homesickness. 
All  the  way  down  the  valley  she  had  pictured 
Maum  Eachel  wringing  her  hands  and  crying, 
"po'  li'l  lamb,  somebody  gone  toted  her  away; 
she  ain't  neber  lef  her  ole  Maumy  on  her  own 
'count." 

She  had  also  feasted  on  Leigh's  swollen  eyes 
and  her  mother's  collapse  (it  was  not  difficult 
to  visualize  Mrs.  Eavenel,  propped  in  her  snowy 
bed  with  Alison  and  Mayre  in  constant  attend- 
ance )  and  her  father 

She  had  winced  a  little  at  the  thought  of  his 
pale  face  and  kind  eyes.  Of  all  the  family  she 
loved  him  best.  As  she  thought  of  him  now, 
sobs  shook  her,  and  it  took  all  the  pride  she 
could  muster  to  keep  from  going  below  and  say- 
ing, "I  am  Doctor  Ravenel's  little  girl,  and  I 
want  you  to  hitch  up  and  take  me  home  this 


54        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

minute."  She  hadn't  the  slightest  desire  to 
prolong  her  family's  agony.  She  had  "shown 
them."  She  was  ready  now  to  bury  the  hatchet 
and  begin  anew. 

She  fell  asleep  thinking  how  she  would  steal 
away  in  the  morning  before  the  family  were 
awake  and  inquire  her  way  back  to  Warrens- 
burg. 

But  it  was  broad  daylight  when  she  opened 
her  eyes  and  Sam  was  beating  a  lusty  tattoo  on 
on  her  door. 

"Breakfast's  ready,"  he  announced.  "Better 
hurry." 

She  was  a  little  chagrined  as  she  sat  down  to 
the  crisp  bacon  and  eggs,  though  rather  glad, 
after  all,  that  she  had  overslept;  the  coffee 
smelled  so  good  and  the  biscuits  Mrs.  Watts 
brought  from  the  oven  were  almost  as  nice  as 
Maum  Rachel's. 

"You  and  Sam  kin  do  the  dishes  —  Sam'll 
wash,"  Mrs.  Watts  said,  as  they  rose  from  the 
table.  "I'll  clean  up  a  bit  before  we  start  to 
meetin'." 

"Do  —  do  you  go  to  Warrensburg?"  Caroline 
asked  hopefully. 

"Land,  no — plum  the  other  way!  Warrens- 
burg's  ten  miles  from  here." 

"If  you  don't  mind,  I  won't  go  with  you. 
Maybe  I  can  do  something  here " 


CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH      55 

"Oh,  I  reckon  you'd  better  come  along.  Mr. 
Watts  is  right  particular  about  everybody  goin' 
to  service." 

Caroline  dried  the  dishes  thoughtfully. 

The  long  day  passed  slowly.  By  the  time 
dinner  was  over,  she  was  utterly  dejected.  She 
bravely  battled  with  tears,  but  often  her  lips 
trembled. 

"When  —  when  does  Mr.  Watts  go  to  town 
again?"  she  inquired  about  dusk.  Sam  had 
lighted  the  lamp  that  hung  over  the  kitchen 
table  and  opened  a  book.  The  sight  brought  a 
wave  of  homesickness.  A  picture  swept  before 
her  longing  eyes:  an  old  darky  kneeling  with 
an  armful  of  wood  before  an  open  fire  —  his  gray, 
kinky  head  crimsoned  by  the  glow;  her  mother 
seated  at  a  table,  an  open  book  in  her  pretty 
white  hands;  Leigh  near,  with  Hope  squeezed 
in  the  chair  beside  her;  on  the  old  sofa  in  front 
of  the  fire,  her  father,  resting,  listening;  Alison 
and  Mayre  on  the  hearth-rug.  And  over  all  the 
fire-light  dancing  on  the  rosewood  piano,  leap- 
ing over  the  faded  curtains,  darting  to  Leigh's 
thin  hands  spread  on  the  armchair. 

But  one  place  was  vacant  —  her  place  —  in  the 
bend  of  her  father's  long  body :  he  always  pushed 
back  to  give  her  room.  She  wondered  if  he 
missed  her,  if  he  were  sorry  about  the  scolding. 

A  thought  of  Willie  flashed  over  her.     She 


56        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

wondered  if  he  were  worse  —  if  lie  had  suffered 
much.  She  hoped  not.  She  winced  a  little,  re- 
membering his  ankle,  and  unconsciously  stooped 
and  rubbed  her  own. 

Mrs.  Watts'  answer  brought  her  back  with  a 
start. 

"Not  afore  Wednesday,  I  reckon.  Do  you, 
Paw?" 

"Hardly." 

The  pent-up  tears  dropped  from  Caroline's 
eyes  and  wandered  slowly  down  her  cheeks. 

Mr.  Watts  saw  them,  and  although  it  was 
Sunday  and  "he  was  particular  about  meeting," 
he  suggested  that  Sam  close  his  book  and  get 
out  the  jackstraws. 

Caroline  played  with  little  interest.  Sam's 
winning  was  barely  noticed  by  her  until  his, 
"Oh,  shucks,  a  girl  can't  never  play  nothin'!" 
challenged  her  pride. 

She  was  glad  when  the  clock  finally  struck 
eight  and  the  family  began  making  preparations 
for  bed. 

Up  in  Elmiry's  little  room  the  tears  fell  thick 
and  fast,  but  sleep  mercifully  checked  them. 
Caroline  was  too  weary  to  care  whether  the  rain 
fell,  cats  howled,  or  mice  scampered  in  the  par- 
titions. Besides,  she  was  dreaming:  dreaming 
that  she  was  in  her  own  soft  bed  at  home;  that 
Maumy  Rachel  stood  beside  it  with  a  tray  of  hot 


CAROLINE  FARES  FORTH      57 

chocolate  and  cinnamon  toast,  a  special  treat 
when  Caroline  was  good. 

Monday  was  worse  than  Saturday,  or  even 
Sunday.  Mrs.  Watts  washed.  Caroline  tended 
the  baby,  dried  dishes,  set  the  table,  peeled 
vegetables. 

But  Tuesday  held  a  surprise.  A  passing 
farmer  brought  news  that  Elmiry  was  ready  to 
return  home.  A  woman  had  been  found  to  care 
for  her  uncle's  children. 

"Beckon  you'd  better  hitch  up  'long  'bout  four 
o'clock,  Paw,  and  go  get  her,"  Mrs.  Watts  said, 
her  face  eager  with  anticipation. 

"Which  way  does  he  go?"  Caroline  asked 
hastily. 

"T'other  side  a  Warrensburg,  'bout  a  mile." 

"The  other  side?  Then  he  passes  through, 
doesn't  he?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  think  he'd  mind  taking  me?  I  —  I 
—  believe  I  like  the  city  a  little  better  and " 

"But  you  hired  for  a  week." 

"I  wouldn't  charge  you  for  the  three  days  — 
and,  besides  —  you  will  hardly  need  me  with 
Elmiry  coming." 

"That's  so.  I  guess  maybe  we  can  manage  — 
what  d'you  think,  Jim?" 

Mr.  Watts  was  very  willing.  He  even  sug- 
gested stopping  at  Clay  and  Center  streets  to 


58        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

let  Caroline  out,  and  in  her  joy  Caroline  thought 
nothing  of  it. 

She  hadn't  been  so  happy  in  months  as  she 
climbed  into  the  seat  beside  Mr.  Watts,  her  red 
bandanna  clasped  in  one  hand  and  a  fifty-cent 
piece  which  the  farmer's  wife  insisted  she  had 
earned  held  tightly  in  the  other. 

At  Clay  street  the  farmer  stopped  and  held 
out  a  rough,  knotty  hand.  Caroline  took  it 
respectfully. 

"When  you  get  tired  of  the  city,  come  out 
again,"  he  said  hospitably;  "come  and  get  ac- 
quainted with  Elmiry." 

Caroline  thanked  him  prettily.  Then  she  ran 
lightly  down  the  street,  turning  in  at  the  side 
gate  that  marked  the  Kirtley  mansion.  The  sur- 
prise that  awaited  her  in  the  old  house  was  even 
greater  than  the  coming  of  Elmiry. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  WANDERER  RETURNS 

MAUM  RACHEL  was  hanging  out  clothes. 
As  Caroline  came  down  the  walk, 
Maumy  put  her  hands  to  her  fat,  black 
cheeks  and  held  back  a  smile. 

"Howdy,  Miss  Car'line,"  she  called,  with  half- 
averted  face.  "Howdy!  Hope  I  see  you  well. 
Did  y'all  have  a  pleasant  journey?" 

Caroline  passed  with  a  toss  of  her  head.  She 
did  not  deign  to  notice  the  impertinence. 

The  house  had  a  changed  aspect.  Caroline 
stood  gazing  up  at  it  in  astonishment.  Boxes 
and  packing  cases  filled  the  verandas ;  the  blinds 
at  the  upstairs  chambers  were  flung  high ;  Caro- 
line observed  this  because  Leigh  was  always 
sending  her  to  straighten  them  in  neat,  even 
lines. 

She  turned  to  ask  Maum  Rachel  a  question, 
but  the  smirk  on  the  round,  black  face  stopped 
her. 

"Is  y'come  to  stay  awhile?"  the  old  woman 


60        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

went  on,  her  fat  sides  shaking  with  laughter. 
Then,  seeing  Caroline's  hurt  face  and  dazed  eyes, 
she  caught  the  cliild  in  her  arms. 

"Lammie,"  she  crooned,  hugging  her  tighter 
and  tighter,  "lammie,  lammie,  your  po'  ole 
Maumy  was  plain  scared  to  deaf  'bout  you. 
Come  on  in  to  yer  Maw.  She  jus'  dyin'  to  see 
you." 

Caroline  dreaded  meeting  the  family.  She 
moved  toward  the  house  slowly. 

"What  are  all  those  boxes  on  the  gallery  for, 
Maumy?"  she  asked,  eyeing  them  wonderingly. 

"Dat's  fer  me  to  know  and  you  to  fine  out, 
honey,"  Rachel  said  with  a  sobered  face.  "Y'all 
better  run  long  in  an'  let  your  Paw  'splain. 
Maumy  ain't  got  time." 

There  was  a  suspicious  moisture  in  her  eyes 
as  she  turned. 

"Something  has  happened.  Tell  me  quickly!" 
Caroline  stamped  her  foot  impatiently.  "Maumy, 
Maumy,  what  is  it  —  you  are  crying.  Is  —  is  he 
worse?" 

Rachel  shook  her  head.  "Go  'long  in  an'  ask 
the  fam'bly,"  she  muttered,  drying  her  tears  on 
the  hem  of  her  apron.  "Run  'long." 

Doctor  Ravenel  wras  at  his  desk  in  the  office. 
The  room  was  in  confusion.  Boxes  were  half 
filled  with  books,  chairs  held  draperies,  pictures, 
odds  and  ends  of  furnishings.  Leigh  was  at  the 


THE  WANDERER  RETURNS    61 

table,  fitting  instruments  into  cases.  She  turned 
as  Caroline  paused  at  the  door. 

"Well,  honey,"  she  said,  and  kissed  her  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  Doctor  Eavenel  looked 
up  and  held  out  his  arms.  Caroline  flung  her- 
self into  them. 

"Major,"  she  cried,  her  eyes  round  with  terror, 
"what  has  happened?  Tell  me,  quick!  What 
does  it  all  mean?" 

The  Major  drew  her  into  his  lap  and  smoothed 
her  thick  braids.  His  eyes  wandered  over  the 
disorderly  room. 

"It  means,  my  child,  that  a  great  many  things 
may  happen  between  Saturday  and  Tuesday.  It 
means  —  that  we  are  moving  —  going  away  —  to 
a  new,  beautiful  country,  where  Father  will  be 
well  and  strong " 

He  got  no  farther.  The  sunburned  head  bur- 
rowed into  his  rough  tweed  coat,  the  little 
shoulders  heaved  with  sobs. 

Caroline  heard  the  whole  story  later:  how  a 
rich  man  from  the  West  had  returned  to  War- 
rensburg,  his  old  home,  and  had  made  some  sort 
of  an  exchange  —  given  his  new  house  in  the 
pretty,  prosperous  Colorado  town  for  the  Kirtley 
estate;  the  family  was  moving  immediately.  She 
was  still  a  little  dazed  as  she  wandered  upstairs 
to  her  mother's  bedroom. 

Mrs.  Kavenel's  room  was  in  perfect  order.  The 


62        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

packing  of  her  personal  belongings  had  been  left 
to  the  last.  She  looked  very  serene  and  pretty 
as  she  sat  in  a  comfortable  chair  before  a  log 
fire,  a  book  open  in  her  lap. 

"Close  the  door,  dear,"  she  called,  as  Caroline 
crossed  the  threshold.  "It  is  very  draughty  with 
the  house  all  open.  Come  give  Mother  a  kiss." 

She  drew  the  child  into  her  arms  and  patted 
her  cheek  lovingly.  "Darling,"  she  murmured, 
"you  must  never,  never  do  such  a  naughty  thing 
again." 

Caroline  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief,  and  snug- 
gling against  her  mother's  delicately  scented 
laces,  sighed  peacefully. 

But  it  was  night  before  she  could  bring  her- 
self to  ask  about  Willie.  She  and  Hope  were 
alone  in  the  big,  square  bedroom.  Judy  had 
had  turned  back  the  covers  on  the  bed  and  set 
out  two  pairs  of  blue  slippers.  Never  had  a  bed 
Jooked  so  good  to  Caroline. 

"How's  Willie  Boland?"  she  casually  asked 
as  she  began  to  disrobe. 

Hope  answered  behind  a  yawn. 

"Oh,  he's  coming  along  nicely.  I  went  over  to 
see  him  this  afternoon  and  took  him  some  cake. 
He  was  sitting  up.  I  don't  think  he  minds  his 
ankle  being  hurt  at  all.  Everybody  brings  him 
things :  books  and  goodies  and  presents." 

It  was  after  the  light  was  out  and  Hope  had 


THE  WANDERER  RETURNS    63 

turned  her  face  to  the  wall  that  Caroline  ven- 
tured another  question : 

"Were  they  much  scared,  Hopie,  when  — 
when  they  found  I  had  gone  —  the  other  morn- 
ing? Did  anybody  cry  —  or  anything?" 

Hope  smothered  another  yawn. 

"Oh,  a  little  —  at  first.  But  when  Mr.  Watts 
came  in  —  he  used  to  be  our  vegetable  man,  you 
know  —  and  said  you  were  at  his  place,  working, 
why  father  said  to  let  you  stay  and  work  —  it 
would  do  you  good  —  he  said " 

Caroline  turned  her  back  upon  Hope  with  a 
flaunt  that  took  the  bedding  with  her.  A  dis- 
gusted "Humph !"  cut  the  sentence. 

"I  don't  want  to  hear  what  he  said/'  came  the 
icy  retort.  "You  can  keep  it  to  yourself  I" 

Under  the  cover  of  darkness  Hope  smiled 
broadly. 

The  breaking  up  of  an  old  home  is  more  heart- 
rending than  it  is  exciting.  From  attic  to  cellar 
the  Kirtley  house  was  slowly  and  systematically 
dismantled.  Boxes  and  barrels  covered  gallery 
and  veranda.  Rufus  hammered  and  nailed  down 
covers,  gave  instructions  to  Judy,  made  trips  to 
town  for  packing  materials,  all  with  a  face  so 
sober  that  it  brought  tears  to  the  eyes  of  sympa- 
thetic little  Caroline. 

"Oh,  Uncle  Rufus,"  she  said  with  a  sigh,  "I 
don't  see  how  in  the  world  the  Major  is  going 


64        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

to  get  along  without  you.  Who's  going  to  drive 
him  when  he  makes  calls " 

"I  reckon  you  is,  Missy,"  the  old  man  said, 
with  a  tender  smile.  "I  reckon  y'all  have  to  be 
Miss  Car'line  and  ole  Eufus  all  in  one,  I 
specs " 

"And  who's  going  to  blacken  his  shoes  and 
brush  his  things  and  —  cut  wood  and  build  fires 
and " 

"Maybe  they  don't  have  fires  out  thar  in  the 
mountains." 

"Of  course  they  have  fires,  Rufus." 

"Mebby  so,  Missy,  mebby  so." 

The  conversation  would  go  on  and  on,  while 
Caroline  fetched  and  carried  for  the  old  man, 
sometimes  smuggling  in  a  discarded  toy  or  for- 
bidden trinket  while  his  woolly  head  was  turned 
from  his  boxes. 

Maum  Rachel's  face  was  also  long  and 
troubled. 

"I  specs  I  gwine  to  come  back  when  I  gits  'em 
all  settled  out  thar,"  she  said  to  Rufus.  "I  ain't 
goin'  to  be  happy  nowhar  but  in  ole  Virginny. 
I  knows  that  —  but  I  can't  desert  Miss  Em'bly. 
Why,  Miss  Emtly  war  my  baby.  She  opened 
them  pretty  blue  eyes  of  hern  in  my  ole  black 
face  —  yessir  —  ole  Doctor  Breeton  done  put  her 
in  my  arms  first.  Seems  lak  it  was  yisterday 
when  I  cum  to  think  'bout  it.  I  was  just  a  li'P 


THE  WANDERER  RETURNS    65 

over  twenty,  but  I  knew  a  heap  'bout  chillun. 
Then  I  nussed  Miss  Leigh,  God  bless  her  sweet 
heart,  and  Miss  Alison  and  Miss  Mayre,  and  that 
li'P,  no-count  scamp,  Miss  Caroline,  and  my  UT 
Miss.  I  ain't  gwine  to  go  back  on  'em  now. 
I'se  gwine  'long." 

And  Rufus  would  bend  lower  over  his  tasks, 
sometimes  raising  an  arm  to  drag  a  coat  sleeve 
across  his  eyes,  but  he  said  little. 

The  night  before  the  lower  rooms  were  cleared 
for  packing,  Mrs.  Ravenel  gathered  her  children 
in  the  faded  blue  drawing-room.  Leigh,  Alison 
and  Mayre  sank  down  on  the  old  sofa  that  had 
held  several  generations  of  Kirtleys.  Caroline 
and  Hope  sat  with  their  mother  on  a  smaller 
one.  It  was  a  solemn  and  impressive  moment. 

"I  want  you  to  look  around,  children,"  Mrs. 
Ravenel  said  in  a  voice  broken  with  emotion, 
"so  that  you  may  remember  the  home  of  your 
ancestors.  It  is  no  longer  ours,  but  we  must 
always  treasure  it  in  memory." 

Caroline's  large,  wistful  eyes  traveled  the 
length  of  the  picturesque  old  room,  her  glance 
caressing  each  familiar  object:  the  heavy  card 
tables  either  side  of  the  fireplace,  the  brass 
sconces  on  the  wall  above;  the  pretentious  can- 
vases in  their  tarnished  gilt  frames;  the  hand- 
some old  chairs;  the  faded  gray-blue  carpet  with 
its  bouquets  of  pale  pink  roses.  She  had  always 


66        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

loved  the  carpet,  though  her  mother  thought  it 
inexcusably  shabby. 

She  feasted  for  a  while,  then  rising,  stood  in 
the  doorway,  looking  across  the  hall  into  the 
dining-room.  Again  her  eyes  swept  the  furnish- 
ings: the  great  square  table  with  its  heavy  legs 
and  claw  feet;  the  high,  straight-backed  chairs; 
the  towering  mahogany  cupboard  filled  with 
shining  glass  and  china;  the  ponderous,  carved 
sideboard  that  held  cut-glass  decanters  and  silver 
fruit  dishes. 

Suddenly  she  turned,  and  without  a  word 
rushed  up  the  broad  stairs  and  into  her  own 
room,  where  she  remained  for  some  time  behind 
a  locked  door. 

But  there  were  many  happy  hours  during  those 
last  few  weeks:  visits  to  friends;  dinner  parties 
to  which  the  young  people  were  invited ;  farewell 
entertainments. 

Willie  was  improving  rapidly.  Caroline  gath- 
ered courage  and  went  to  see  him  one  day.  She 
found  him  propped  in  a  great  easy  chair  before 
a  sunny  bay  window,  his  foot  raised  on  a  chair 
in  front  of  him. 

"I  am  dreadfully  sorry,  Willie,"  she  said,  when 
his  mother  left  them  alone  for  a  minute.  "I  — 
I  didn't  mean  to  have  you  get  hurt " 

To  which  Willie  replied  irrelevantly,  "Forget 
it !  Nobody  ever  thought  of  blaming  you." 


THE  WANDERER  RETURNS    67 

"I  'spect  it  was  Mamie  Jilsen,  maybe  —  she  got 
excited " 

"T'wasn't  anybody.  I  just  fell  —  that's  all  — 
anybody's  apt  to,  climbing  things.  —  Say,  Caro- 
line, I  envy  you  those  mountains  out  in  Colorado. 
Gee,  but  I  would  like  to  get  up  to  the  top  of  them 
once.  What  do  you  suppose  is  on  the  other 
side?" 

"I  will  write  and  tell  you,  Willie  —  and  you 
must  write  to  me.  Tell  me  everything  about  the 
crowd.  You  mustn't  forget  anybody,  the  Jilsens 
or  the  Kamseys  or  the  McFees.  I  like  them  all." 

And  Willie,  one  year  Caroline's  senior,  and 
more  or  less  under  the  spell  of  her  "speckled" 
eyes,  promised  faithfully. 

The  eventful  day  came  at  last,  the  day  when 
the  old  house  was  to  be  closed  and  barred. 

"I  reckon  we  won't  know  the  place  if  we  ever 
come  back;  the  new  people  are  going  to  build 
it  all  over,"  Caroline  said  to  Maum  Rachel.  They 
were  standing  in  the  long,  bright  kitchen.  Maum 
Rachel  had  been  instructed  to  lock  up  and  bring 
Caroline  to  the  hotel. 

The  old  negress  did  not  speak  for  a  moment. 
When  she  did,  her  tones  were  low  and  indistinct. 

"I  —  I  specs  not,  honey." 

"It  will  all  be  different,  Maum  Rachel." 

The  gray  head  nodded.  For  a  minute  the 
striking  of  the  old  clock  was  the  only  sound  that 


68        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

marred  the  stillness.  Caroline  counted  the 
strokes :  one,  two,  three,  four. 

"Hadn't  you  better  wind  it,  Maumy?"  she 
asked. 

"What  fur,  Missy?  They  ain't  nobody  to 
care." 

But  she  moved  across  the  room  and  took  the 
key  from  a  hook.  Caroline  listened  to  the  fa- 
miliar grind. 

"Maumy " 

"Yes,  honey?" 

"It  will  go  on  ticking  until  Sunday,  won't  it?" 

"Yes,  lammie." 

"And  then  it  will  stop  —  still." 

"Yes,  it'll  stop." 

"And  there  won't  be  anybody  to  start  it  again. 
Won't  it  be  lonesome,  Maumy,  the  old  clock " 

Through  a  veil  of  tears  Maum  Kachel  looked 
at  the  scarred  face  with  its  straight,  pointing 
hands,  the  heavy  brass  pendulum. 

"It  didn't  seem  right  to  take  the  old  one  in 
the  hall  —  Grandfather  Kirtley's  —  just  because 
it  was  tall  and  handsome,  and  leave  this,  did  it, 
Maumy?  I  told  Major  so,  but  he  said  we  had 
to  draw  the  line  somewhere.  Tell  me  about  the 
day  Jerusha  cooked  mother's  wedding  breakfast 
by  it,  Maumy,  just  once  more  —  and  how  it 
stopped  at  the  very  minute  Jerusha  died.  Please, 
while  I  can  look  at  it." 


THE  WANDERER  RETURNS    69 

Rachel  sat  down  and  drew  Caroline  within 
the  bend  of  her  arm. 

"Dat  was  a  long  time  ago,  chile  —  a  long,  long 
time  ago  —  but  I  bet  Ole  Time  he  ain't  fergot." 
She  looked  at  the  clock  as  if  she  expected  a  nod 
to  corroborate  her  statement.  "De  wedding  it 
was  at  noon,  and  de  breakfas'  it  was  to  be  at  one 
promp'!  Jerusha  she  bake  de  ham  and  cook 
de  turkey,  and  fix  de  trimmin's,  keepin'  her  eye 
on  Ole  Time  yander,  when  all  of  a  sudden  she 
hear  de  weddin'  folks  a-comin'  back  from  de 
church,  and  it  war  only  twelve  o'clock  —  yes'm, 
twelve  o'clock  —  and  de  turkey  wa'nt  brown  or 
de  biscuits  beat,  or  de  sweet  taters  done  —  or 
nothin' !  Jerusha  she  got  up  on  a  chair  an  put 
her  head  close  to  Ole  Time  thar,  and  bless  you, 
he'd  done  stopped  short  —  yes'm  —  somepin'  in 
him  had  broke  —  broke  down.  Just  at  twelve, 
precise!" 

"What  made  it  break,  Maumy,  do  you  'spose  — 
just  then?" 

"What  I  'spose?  I  know,  honey.  It  war  a 
sure  sign.  Ole  Time  was  a-trying  to  tell  us  thar 

war  trouble  ahead  —  your  Paw "  she  stopped 

suddenly. 

"And  the  other  time,  Maumy,  when  Jerusha 
died " 

"They  ain't  nothin'  to  tell  'bout  dat.  He  jes' 
naturally  stopped  —  out'n  respect,  till  the  fu- 


70        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

neral  was  over  —  just  like  closin'  up  a  store  or 

» 

'Oh,  Haumy,"  came  the  child's  doubting  tones. 

"Fac',  honey.  Clocks  know  a  heap,  always 
watchin'  folks'  doin's." 

"Some  day  I  am  going  to  send  for  him, 
Maumy,"  Caroline  whispered  softly.  "Maybe  Mr. 
Lee"  —  Mr.  Lee  was  the  new  owner  —  "would 
give  him  to  me.  When  I  get  to  Colorado,  I  will 
write  him  about  it.  I  reckon  we  had  better  be 
going  now." 

She  paused  in  the  doorway.  "Good-bye,  dear 
old  Mr.  Time,"  she  said,  with  a  little  choke  in 
her  voice.  "Don't  you  feel  bad.  You  aren't 
really  forgotten  —  you  are  just  keepin'  watch  for 
awhile." 

She  blew  a  fluttering  kiss  toward  the  seamy 
white  face  and  went  to  find  Rufus. 

And  Maum  Rachel,  with  a  long,  trembling 
sigh,  turned  the  lock  in  the  worn,  battered  door. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  NEW  HOME 

MOTHER,  I  don't  like  it!     I  don't  like 
it  at  all." 

Mayre's  doleful  face  (replica  of 
her  mother's  in  color  and  outline)  was  a  picture 
of  dismay. 

The  long  journey  from  the  South  was  over; 
and  the  family  had  strolled  up  the  wide,  wind- 
swept avenue  that  led  to  the  new  home. 

Caroline,  her  hand  in  her  father's,  frowned. 

"Wait  until  you've  seen  the  inside  before  you 
begin  to  find  fault;  you  don't  live  on  the  out- 
side," she  said,  watching  her  father's  face  for  a 
shade  of  disappointment. 

"I  think  it  is  very  like  the  photograph,  Mayre," 
he  declared  cheerfully. 

"But  it's  painted  red,  and  I  hate  red.    It  was 

never  meant  for  anything  but  the  sunsets  and 

» 

"The  color  seems  to  be  in  vogue  here,"  Mrs. 
Ravenel  remarked,  looking  about.  "And  it  is 
a  very  rich,  dark  red;  quite  effective  too.  But 
I  know  how  you  feel,  Mayre  dear,  you  are  so 


72        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

sensitive  to  color."  She  put  an  arm  around  the 
shuddering  girl  and  patted  her  shoulder. 

"Fiddlesticks !"    The  word  came  in  disgust. 

"Caroline!" 

"Oh,  Mother,  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  wasn't 
speaking  to  you.  Mayre  makes  me  sick,  always 
putting  on  airs  about  things  and " 

A  gentle  squeeze  of  the  hand  in  her  own 
stopped  the  sentence. 

It  was  an  odd-looking  house,  set  a  little  apart 
from  its  neighbors.  Its  square  tower  and  ornate 
trimmings  cheapened  what  was  otherwise  a  very 
comfortable,  well-planned  dwelling. 

"That  awful  thing  on  the  side — it  makes  one 
think  of  a  fire  station  —  that  tower " 

"That's  where  the  stairs  go  up,  Mayre,"  Alison 
suggested.  "I  think  it's  rather  nice." 

"Can't  you  imagine  what  the  view  would  be 
from  those  high  windows,"  Leigh  said,  lifting 
her  eyes.  "I  suspect  it's  an  observatory." 

Maum  Rachel  and  Judy,  with  bulging  eyes  and 
heavy  hearts,  had  followed  the  procession  up  the 
street. 

Doctor  Ravenel  turned  from  the  house,  and  for 
a  moment  stood  looking  at  the  giant  mountains 
that  walled  the  valley  to  the  west. 

"Well,  Rachel,"  he  said  at  last,  "what  do  you 
think  of  all  this?"  He  waved  a  hand  toward 
the  Rockies. 


THE  NEW  HOME  73 

"I  —  I  specs  hit's  mighty  fine  fer  them  'at  likes 
it,  Marsa;  they's  terrible  gran',  dem  old  rocks, 

but " 

She  stopped,  and  shading  her  eyes  with  her 
hand,  peered  closer. 

"But  —  don't  they  sort'r  shet  out  the  view, 
Marsa?  What's  behine  'em?  Dat's  what  I  want 
a  know !" 

Even  Mayre  joined  in  the  laugh  that  followed, 
and  the  Doctor  opened  the  front  door. 

"Oh,  dear,  more  red,"  Mayre  said,  as  she 
viewed  the  showy  octagonal  hall. 

"There  was  a  young  person  named  Mayre 

Who  fussed  like  the  very  old  Harry," 
sang  Caroline  in  a  tone  that  echoed  through  the 
empty  house: 

"The  blue  eyes  in  her  head 

Saw  everything  red " 

"Children !" 

This  fussy  young  person •  " 

"Caroline!" 

"Called  Mayre!" 

"It  is  so  nice  to  have  a  budding  poet  in  the 
family,"  Mayre  sighed,  and  turned  her  attention 
to  the  parlors. 

The  rooms  opened  by  means  of  sliding  doors. 
French  windows  led  to  the  broad  veranda. 

"How  charming!"  Leigh  exclaimed,  as  she 
opened  one  and  again  caught  sight  of  the  moun- 


74        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

tains.  "Oh,  Mother,  I  don't  care  if  the  house  is 
—  gingerbready —  so  long  as  we  have  these 
rooms.  Think  how  pretty  they  will  be  when  our 
furniture  comes, —  the  sofa  before  the  fireplace 


"It's  built  of  red  sandstone  —  the  fireplace — - 
isn't  it?"  began  May  re. 
"Her  lovely  blue  eyes  never  held  a  surprise 


"Caroline !  You  may  desist !"  Mrs.  RaveneFs 
tone  were  too  gentle  to  be  effective. 

"They  saw  only  red  —  red " 

"Mother,  can't  she  stop!" 

"You  stop,  then " 

Doctor  Ravenel  raised  a  finger.  Words  were 
unnecessary.  The  teasing  ceased. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  hall  stretched  an  im- 
posing dining  room;  it  faced  a  garden  that 
showed  signs  of  neglect.  Mayre  shuddered 
again,  but  said  nothing.  The  room  was  papered 
in  blue  that  bordered  on  indigo ;  a  fantastic  pat- 
tern flecked  with  gold.  But  opening  from  the 
larger  room  was  a  smaller  one,  finished  in  ivory, 
even  to  the  table  and  chairs. 

"A  breakfast  room!  How  darling!"  Alison 
cried.  Mayre's  face  brightened. 

"I  shall  have  all  my  meals  here,"  she  declared, 
"and  I  will  arrange  the  garden.  I  think  roses 
would  do  well  —  it's  east,  isn't  it?  Yellow  Har- 


THE  NEW  HOME  75 

risons  and  Sweetbriar,  perhaps  a  Baltimore 
Belle  or  two.  And  over  there,"  she  pointed  a 
slender  artist's  finger,  "daffodils  and  clumps  of 
iris  and  perhaps  some  monkshoods  and  zinnias, 
and  —  oh,  yes,  a  flowering  almond,  and  against 
the  lattice,  honeysuckle " 

"I  wouldn't  count  too  much  on  the  flowers; 
the  season  is  short  here,"  her  father  interrupted. 

"But  some  one  had  a  garden ;  look  at  the  beds 
—  such  humpy  ones ;  no  wonder  flowers  wouldn't 
grow,  poor  things." 

Back  of  the  living  rooms  were  the  kitchen, 
pantries,  closets  and  provision  rooms.  Maum 
Rachel's  eyes  widened  with  surprise  as  she 
viewed. 

"Hit's  handy,"  she  declared,  "but  hit  means  a 
lot  a  cleanin',  Miss  Em'bly.  Look  at  dat  gallery 
crost  de  back,  and  de  size  ob  de  kitchen.  I  ain't 
gwine  have  no  chillun  trackin'  hit  up."  She 
eyed  Caroline  defiantly. 

The  red  wall  paper  followed  the  hall  in  its 
devious  wanderings.  Caroline  paused  on  the 
first  stair  landing. 

"There's  a  place  just  like  we  had  at  home  for 
Aunt  Caroline,"  she  remarked,  observing  the 
niche  in  the  wall.  "It  looks  as  if  it  were  made 
for  a  portrait." 

"Hurrah  for  Great-aunt,"  Alison  said,  taking 
the  stairs  at  a  bound.  "She'll  tone  up  the  hall 


76        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

with  her  elegance.  I  wonder  if  her  health  is 
good." 

"And  Grandfather  can  hang  down  there," 
Mayre  said,  half  closing  her  eyes  to  get  the  effect 
of  the  portrait  in  the  lower  hall.  "Yes,  he  will 
be  lovely  there,  opposite  the  entrance.  The  light 
is  fine." 

"And  callers  can  say,  as  they  enter,  'Ahem, 
F.  F.  V's ;  these  people  are  worth  cultivating.'  " 

"Alison,  that  is  just  a  little  —  unnecessary," 
Mrs.  Ravenel  admonished,  though  her  face  re- 
flected pride.  "I  hope  that  people  will  not  have 
to  see  our  forbears  to  know  that  we  are  gentle- 
women." 

"Better  lock  Caroline  in  the  cellar,  then," 
Mayre  suggested,  having  awaited  revenge. 

Maum  Rachel  nodded  her  kinky  head. 

"Caroline  is  going  to  be  very  careful  about 
choosing  her  friends  here,"  Mrs.  Ravenel  con- 
tinued, with  a  hopeful  smile.  "Aren't  you,  darl- 
ing? You  realize  that  our  happiness  depends  so 
much  upon  our  friendships  —  we  want  refined  as- 
sociates." 

Caroline  repeated  the  word  after  her :  refined. 
"What  does  it  mean?"  she  asked,  her  brows  in  a 
pucker. 

"Refined?    Why,  it  means  —  polish,  dear." 

"Something  you  put  on  the  outside  of  you?" 

"No  —  scarcely  that." 


THE  NEW  HOME  77 

"Something  like  — fine?" 

"More  than  that  —  re-fined.     Made  better." 

"Isn't  it  enough  to  be  fine " 

"My  dear,  we  will  discuss  the  word  at  another 
time." 

They  had  reached  the  second  floor^  continuing 
the  inspection  of  the  chambers. 

"What  lovely  rooms  for  you  and  Father," 
Leigh  called,  opening  the  door  to  the  front.  "Two 
splendid  ones  with  the  bath  between.  What 
more  could  one  ask?" 

"Nothing  but  this,"  Alison  shouted  from  the 
end  of  the  hall.  "Do  come  and  see  this  love  of  a 
door  with  a  mirror  in  it,  and  the  darlingest  pink 
paper  on  the  wall.  Oh,  Mother,  could  Mayre  and 
I  have  this  room?" 

The  family  came  trooping. 

"But  you  can't  see  the  mountains,  Alison.  I 
want  the  view " 

"And  I  want  the  mirror,"  Alison  insisted, 
pirouetting  before  it. 

"The  room  is  too  small  for  two,"  Mrs.  Kavenel 
said,  and  added,  "It  will  be  charming  for  Leigh. 
Do  you  not  like  it,  dear?  In  the  spring  you  can 
look  down  on  Mayre's  garden." 

Leigh's  face  colored  warmly.  "I  should  love 
it,  Mother  dear,"  she  said,  "and  Alison  may  dress 
here  whenever  she  likes." 

There  were  two  good-sized  rooms  across  the 


78        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

hall.  Alison  and  Mayre  decided  on  the  one  to 
the  front.  Caroline  and  Hope  took  the  one  just 
back. 

Caroline  lingered  in  her  room  after  the  family 
had  passed  on.  She  went  over  to  the  window, 
and  opening  it,  looked  out.  A  handsome  house 
set  in  the  midst  of  formal  gardens  and  winding 
paths  stood  but  a  stone's  throw  away.  It  was  an 
imposing  place.  A  girl  of  Caroline's  own  age 
was  walking  down  the  carriage  road  with  a  dog 
in  leash. 

Despite  her  mother's  admonitions  in  regard 
to  chance  acquaintances,  Caroline  made  a  cup 
of  her  hands  and  gave  a  cordial  hello! 

The  girl  glanced  up.  Caroline  added  a  smile 
and  a  wave  to  the  hello,  but  the  young  person 
merely  dropped  her  eyes,  shrugged,  and  passed 
into  a  near-by  pergola. 

"Snubby,  isn't  she,"  Caroline  muttered,  clos- 
ing the  window.  Then,  race  pride  getting  the 
better  of  democracy,  she  added,  "But  of  course 
she  didn't  know  I  was  a  Kirtley,  so  I  will  have 
to  overlook  it." 

The  family  had  gone  downstairs  to  decide  on 
Doctor  KaveneFs  office  quarter,  and  Caroline 
took  the  steps  leading  to  the  tower.  She  drew 
her  breath  sharply  as  she  opened  the  door  to  the 
small,  box-like  room  that  gave  to  the  west.  On 
two  sides  there  were  windows;  the  view  of  the 


THE  NEW  HOME  79 

mountains,  circling  away  to  the  valley,  ,was 
clear  and  unobstructed. 

Something  like  a  thrill  shot  through  her  as 
she  looked  out  into  the  sun-drenched  silence.  At 
the  foot  of  the  mountains  lay  the  peaceful  vil- 
lage. 

"That  old  fellow  over  there"  —  she  was  looking 
on  a  mammoth  peak  —  "is  a  giant  with  his  arms 
stretched  wide  —  and  —  these  people  are  his  sub- 
jects. I  am  one  of  them  now,"  she  thought,  mak- 
ing her  quick  salute.  "Command  me,  Mighty 
King !"  Her  joyous  laugh,  floating  with  the  soft 
wind,  echoed  back. 

She  was  so  entranced  that  she  did  not  hear 
her  father  enter.  He  slipped  her  hand  into  his, 
and  together  they  stood  gazing  at  the  marvelous 
panorama. 

"Major,  it's  —  it's  wonderful,  isn't  it?  It  —  it 
sort  of  takes  away  my  breath." 

Doctor  Ravenel  drank  in  the  fresh,  pure  air 
with  relish. 

"You  are  thousands  of  feet  nearer  the  sky 
than  you  were  at  home,  honey;  that  makes  you 
breathe  faster.  And  you  ran  up-stairs  —  you 
mustn't  do  that  any  more  until  you  are 
acclimated." 

Caroline  put  her  hand  over  her  heart;  it  was 
racing  madly. 

"It  wasn't  just  —  just  that  I  couldn't  get  my 


80        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

breath  —  I  felt  choked,  Major  —  as  if  —  as  if  I 
couldn't  speak  —  couldn't " 

She  broke  off,  unable  to  make  herself  under- 
stood. Years  later  she  realized  that  her  madly 
beating  heart  was  not  only  responding  to  alti- 
tude but  to  the  splendor  of  the  Rockies. 

"Did  you  find  a  place  for  your  office?"  she  in- 
quired presently. 

"Yes,  I  shall  take  the  back  parlor.  Fortun- 
ately there  is  a  small  room  off  from  it,  originally 
meant  for  a  den,  with  a  door  opening  to  the 
veranda.  The  arrangement  could  scarcely  be 
better." 

"Doesn't  it  seem  sometimes  as  if  things  were 
planned  for  people?"  she  asked,  w^ith  wisdom  be- 
yond her  years.  "I  am  going  to  love  this  place. 
I  like  every  inch  of  it — red  paper  and  everything. 
I  am  so  glad  I  wasn't  born  Mayre,  Major.  I 
might  have  been,  you  know,  if  I  had  come  third 
instead  of  fourth,  mightn't  I?  It  must  be  dread 
f ul  to  hate  a  color  so " 

A.  softly  cushioned  bench  ran  around  the 
windows.  Doctor  Ravenel  sat  down  and  drew 
Caroline  within  his  arm. 

"You  must  be  very  patient  with  Mayre,  dear," 
he  said.  "Some  people  are  so  sensitively  organ- 
ized that  a  color  annoys  almost  beyond  reason. 
It  is  not  a  whim  with  Mayre;  she  is  quite  sincere. 
I  shall  have  the  hall  changed  as  soon  as  possible. 


THE  NEW  HOME  81 

It  will  be  soothing  to  all  of  us.  I,  myself,  dis- 
like violent  colors." 

As  they  chatted,  the  sun  dropped  behind  the 
peak.  A  crimson  flush  followed,  and  a  moment 
later  the  sky  was  a  mass  of  color.  The  wind 
rose  higher,  tearing  down  the  street,  bending  the 
cottonwood  trees,  stripping  them  of  their  last 
leaves. 

Doctor  Ravenel  buttoned  his  coat;  an  evening 
chill  had  fallen.  "I  think  we  had  better  get 
back  to  the  hotel,"  he  said. 

Caroline  moved  from  the  window  slowly.  She 
wanted  to  remain  a  little  longer,  to  watch  the 
glow  fade  in  the  west,  the  wind  scampering  after 
it. 

Below,  the  family  had  huddled  together  on  the 
piazza.  Maum  Rachel,  holding  down  her  skirts 
with  her  fat,  black  hands,  shook  her  head  re- 
belliously. 

"Ef  hit's  gwine  blow  like  this  all  de  time,  y'all 
kin  send  me  back  to  Virginny.  I  don't  want  my 
haid  to  part  company  wif  my  neack  yet  a  while. 
I  don't  like  win',  and  them  ole  hills  yander,  they 
look  lak  they  was  up  to  debilment.  I  ain't  gwine 
trust  'em.  No,  m'am!  They  done  got  sompin' 
up  their  sleeve  to  spring  on  folks  —  lightnin'  er 
slycoons." 

She  rolled  her  black  eyes  until  the  whites  were 
uppermost  and,  though  Doctor  Ravenel  assured 


82        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

her  that  cyclones  were  usually  confined  to  flat 
country,  she  kept  her  gaze  from  "the  hills"  until 
they  reached  the  hotel. 


CHAPTER  VII 

ADJUSTMENTS 

IT  takes  longer  to  settle  a  house  than  to  dis- 
mantle it.  A  month  passed  before  the  new 
dwelling  became  a  home. 

The  quaint  old  Kirtley  furniture  obliterated 
many  of  the  architect's  queer  fancies,  and  the 
hall  newly  tinted  (Caroline  said  it  looked  like 
coffee  with  cream  in  it),  provided  an  excellent 
background  for  the  portraits. 

"I  do  wish  we  could  have  new  rugs,"  Mayre 
sighed,  "but  I  would  a  heap  rather  have  bare 
floors  than  the  old  carpets.  And  hard  wood  is 
sanitary !" 

Upstairs  the  bright,  sunny  rooms  were  fresh 
and  comfortable,  Leigh's  especially.  A  wide 
couch  (transformed  at  night  into  a  bed),  a  deep 
willow  chair  and  an  old  rosewood  desk  between 
the  windows  gave  it  the  air  of  a  sitting  room, 
which  indeed  it  was. 

"It  is  the  prettiest  spot  in  the  house,  Sister," 
Caroline  said,  her  eyes  sweeping  the  one  well- 
chosen  picture  that  adorned  the  wall,  the  Martha 
Washington  sewing  table,  and  the  worsted 


84        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

sampler  that  hung  above  it,  remnant  of  Grand- 
mother Kirtley's  handiwork. 

And  through  the  windows,  nearly  always  open, 
could  be  seen  the  wide  sweep  of  avenue  with  its 
stately  procession  of  carriages,  tandems  and  dog- 
carts, their  high-seated  drivers  in  livery,  —  such 
unique  turnouts,  and  so  distinctive,  that  often 
Leigh  dropped  her  mending  to  watch  them. 

"It  is  almost  like  living  in  a  foreign  city," 
Alison  said  to  her  mother.  "You  see  people  from 
all  over  the  world.  But  it  is  sad  to  think  so 
many  of  them  have  had  to  leave  their  homes  to 
find  health." 

"It  ought  to  be  an  excellent  place  for  phy- 
sicians," Leigh  thought. 

Doctor  Ravenel  had  hung  his  sign  on  the  wrest 
veranda,  but  patients  were  slow  in  calling.  He 
had  also  bought  a  comfortable,  second-hand  phae- 
ton and  a  fat,  lazy  horse,  but  so  far  Selah  was 
driven  only  for  pleasure. 

School  was  the  all-absorbing  topic  in  the 
family  during  that  first  month,  for  the  Ravenel 
children  knew  nothing  of  public  schools,  having 
been  taught  entirely  by  governesses. 

Alison  and  Mayre  attended  the  high  school,  a 
square,  stone  building  six  or  eight  blocks  down 
the  street.  Caroline  and  Hope  went  to  the  same 
building,  the  lower  floor  being  used  for  grammar 
grades. 


ADJUSTMENTS  85 

The  four  girls,  neat  and  attractive  in  their 
blue  serges  and  white  linen  collars,  accompanied 
by  a  sprightly  colored  maid  ( Mrs.  Ravenel  would 
not  have  thought  of  allowing  them  on  the  streets 
alone)  were  distinctly  noticeable  as  they  wended 
their  way  southward  each  morning.  Many  a 
head  turned  to  watch  them. 

It  was  Caroline  who  first  rebelled  about  Judy's 
watchful  care.  "It  makes  us  look  like  babies," 
she  pouted.  "Everybody  turns  around  to  look 
at  us.  Please,  Mother,  let  us  go  to  school  alone." 
Doctor  Ravenel  agreed  with  Caroline. 

Mrs.  Ravenel  finally  surrendered,  setting  Judy 
to  other  tasks  in  the  morning,  but  she  never 
failed  to  say  with  her  good-bye  kisses,  "Do  not 
allow  any  one  to  address  you,  children,  under 
any  circumstances!" 

Caroline  avoided  disobedience  by  speaking 
first. 

She  had  at  last  made  the  acquaintance  of  the 
girl  in  the  house  across  the  wray.  There  was  no 
fence  between  the  yards,  so  that  it  was  a  simple 
matter  to  stroll  leisurely  across  and  say  "Good 
morning." 

"Good  morning,"  the  girl  had  answered 
pleasantly,  moving  to  make  a  place  on  the  bench 
beside  her. 

"I  am  Caroline  Ravenel,"  was  the  next  step. 
"We've  just  moved  here  from  the  South,  and  I 


86        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

get  awfully  lonesome.  Don't  you  want  to  come 
over  and  play  awhile?" 

"Can't  you  stay  here?" 

Caroline  glanced  homeward. 

"I  guess  I  can,"  she  answered. 

"I  have  made  a  friend,"  she  said  a  few  hours 
later,  when  she  returned  to  her  own  fireside. 

Mrs.  Ravenel  looked  up  quickly. 

"Who  is  it,  dear?"  she  asked. 

"The  girl  next  door.  She's  perfectly  lovely. 
She  can  sit  on  her  hair  when  it's  down,  it's  so 
long,  and  she  has  a  dog  named  Viking." 

"What  is  her  name?" 

"Briggs,  I  think.  I  can't  just  remember.  They 
call  her  Kathleen.  They  are  very  nice  people  — 
and  rich." 

"How  did  you  find  that  out?"  May  re  asked. 

"She  said  so." 

"Said  they  were  rich  I" 

"Yes;  her  father  made  a  pile  of  money  up  in 
a  place  called  Cripple  Creek,  where  they  take 
the  gold  right  out  of  the  ground  in  a  bucket. 
I'm  going  to  tell  Major  about  it." 

"What  is  her  father's  business?"  Alison  asked. 
It  was  the  hour  before  dinner,  and  the  family 
had  gathered  before  the  fire. 

"He  used  to  be  a  carpenter,  but  now  he's  a " 

Caroline  paused  for  a  minute,  her  brows  drawn 
in  a  frown. 


ADJUSTMENTS  87 

"A  carpenter !"  Alison's  tones  were  patroniz- 
ing. 

"Yes  —  what's  wrong  about-  that?" 

"Carpenters  are  —  are  sort  of  lowly  people, 
Caroline." 

"I  know  —  like  Jesus." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 

"But  he's  not  that  now.  I  am  trying  to  think 
what  she  said.  Oh,  yes,  I  know.  Now,  he's  a 
banker.  A  wholesale  banker." 

"A  wholesale  — what?" 

"Banker." 

"You  must  mean  baker,  dear." 

"No,  I  don't.  They  have  a  lovely  house.  Much 
bigger  than  this.  And  new  furniture.  It  shines. 
I  told  her  about  our  being  Kirtleys.  I  guess 
that's  why  she  said  they  were  rich.  I  said  at 
home  it  was  wonderful  to  be  a  Kirtley.  Every- 
body looked  up  to  you " 

"My  dear  child,  you  did  not  say  that !"  Mrs. 
Ravenel  gasped. 

"Somebody  had  to  tell  it,"  Caroline  remarked, 
stifling  a  yawn.  "How  would  folks  know?  I 
told  Kathleen  to  come  over  and  I  would  show 
her  my  grandfather's  picture,  and  my  aunt  that's 
lots  richer  than  they  are,  and  is  going  to  leave 
me  her  fortune  some  day " 

"Will  you  bring  me  my  smelling  salts,  Mayre 
darling?"  Mrs.  Ravenel  asked,  relaxing  in  her 


88        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

chair.  "Your  father  must  talk  to  Caroline.  I 
seem  to  make  no  impression " 

"That  was  what  I  was  trying  to  do,  but  nobody 
seems  to  'predate  it,"  Caroline  said  and  flounced 
out  of  the  room. 

As  the  winter  drew  on,  other  friends  were 
added.  Mildred  Berne,  who  lived  in  the  little 
house  in  the  lot  back,  and  Frances  Kingdon  who 
sat  behind  Caroline  in  school.  Mayre  and  Alison 
were  also  making  acquaintances  slowly,  as  be- 
came Kirtleys. 

Mrs.  Ravenel  and  Leigh  were  not  so  fortunate. 
As  the  days  lengthened,  they  depended  more  and 
more  upon  each  other  for  companionship,  joining 
Doctor  Eavenel  on  the  sunny  veranda  when  the 
weather  permitted,  or  before  the  cosy  fire  in  the 
drawing-room. 

Doctor  Ravenel  was  gaining  daily.  The  clean, 
stimulating  air  had  put  new  life  into  him.  There 
were  times  when  he  walked  down  the  avenue 
without  a  tremor  of  fatigue.  He  had  abandoned 
the  front  bedchamber  and  pitched  a  tent  in  the 
back  yard.  There  he  slept  in  all  kinds  of  weather, 
the  flap  of  his  domicile  open  to  the  elements.  It 
was  suicidal,  his  wife  thought,  yet  he  gained 
strength  rapidly.  ' 

Mrs.  Ravenel  missed  her  friends  sadly.  Caro- 
line, coming  in  unawares  one  day,  found  her 
very  much  depressed. 


ADJUSTMENTS  89 

"What  makes  Mother  look  so  sad,  Leigh?"  she 
asked,  with  a  catch  in  her  voice. 

"I  think  she  gets  a  little  lonely,  perhaps.  It 
is  hard  to  give  up  one's  old  friends,  and  for  some 
unknown  reason  people  are  very  slow  about 
calling." 

"Kathleen  says  it  is  because  they  think  nobody 
is  going  to  stay  long  here.  People  come  and  go, 
all  the  time;  you  make  a  friend  and  then  lose 
her.  That  hurts  too." 

Caroline  pondered  over  her  mother's  situation 
for  some  days.  Finally  she  determined  to  adjust 
the  difficulty. 

She  returned  from  school  one  afternoon  quite 
late.  Leigh  was  anxiously  peering  down  the 
street  when  she  saw  the  brown  head  bobbing 
around  the  corner. 

"Where  have  you  been,  dear?  Sister  has  been 
alarmed " 

Caroline  laid  a  finger  on  her  lip.  "Sh,"  she 
said.  "Come  upstairs." 

She  stopped  in  her  own  room  to  leave  her  hat 
and  coat.  When  she  entered  Leigh's  sunny 
quarters  she  was  wearing  a  broad  smile. 

"Sit  down  and  I  will  tell  you,"  she  com- 
manded, pushing  her  sister  into  the  wicker  chair 
by  the  window.  "You  know  the  other  day  when 
I  found  Mother  so  —  so  unhappy  —  well  —  I 
knew  something  had  to  be  done,  or  she'd  be  want- 


90        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

ing  to  go  back  to  Virginia.  So  I  thought  up  a 
plan." 

She  bent  closer,  her  small,  round  face  lighting 
up  in  anticipation  of  her  sister's  surprise.  "You 
see,  I  got  to  thinking  about  how  she  used  to  love 
to  sit  on  the  veranda  at  home  and  tell  Mrs.  Fair- 
field  and  Miss  Rose  and  Mrs.  Boiling  about  us  — 
how  we  were  borned  —  you  in  Massachusetts, 
which  always  made  her  feel  so  bad,  and  me  in 
Vermont,  and  Mayre  in  the  Philippines,  which 
was  most  as  bad " 

"Yes,  dear,  and  what  did  you  do?"  Leigh 
asked  with  bated  breath. 

"So  I "  Caroline  gave  a  little  chuckle, 

eloquent  of  satisfaction,  "I  thought  of  a  way  to 
make  people  call,  I " 

"You  what?"  Leigh  leaned  closer.  "Tell  me 
quickly;  what  did  you  do?" 

"I'm  trying  to  tell  you,  Sister;  don't  get  so 
excited.  I  took  some  of  her  calling  cards,  those 
nice  ones  that  say  'Mrs.  Robert  Ellington  Rav- 
enel'  on  them,  and  I  picked  out  six  of  the  best- 
looking  houses  around  here  —  just  six  —  I  know 
Mother  doesn't  care  for  many  people,  and  I  put 
one  under  each  door " 

"Caroline!"  Leigh  had  risen,  pale  and  angry 
before  the  astonished  child.  "Caroline!  You 
didn't!  You  could  not  have  been  so  naughty." 

"Naughty?    Why,  what's  naughty  about  that? 


ADJUSTMENTS  91 

Every  one  of  those  people  will  owe  her  a  call. 
I  had  a  funny  time  at  one  place.  I  thought  I 
heard  some  one  coming,  so  I  held  on  to  the  card — 
and  then  somebody  took  hold  of  it  on  the  other 
side  of  the  door,  and  we  kept  seesawing,  like 
this "  the  chuckle  rose  to  a  giggle. 

The  color  leaped  into  Leigh's  face  again.  She 
looked  at  Caroline  in  bewilderment.  "I  think," 
she  said  slowly,  "I  think  sometimes  Maumy 
Rachel  is  right ;  you  are  possessed  of  something ! 
Do  you  know  what  you  have  done?  You  have 
disgraced  Mother  so  that  no  one  will  call.  No 
one !  We  are  strangers  here.  We  have  no  right 
to  thrust  ourselves  upon  people." 

The  light  went  out  of  Caroline's  face. 

"Oh,  Leigh,  I  only  wanted  to  help  —  I  — •  what 
can  I  do  about  it?" 

"I  don't  know.  I  shall  have  to  think.  But 
you  must  not  tell  Mother.  Not  at  present.  It 
would  make  her  positively  ill." 

Caroline  left  the  room  very  much  in  the  man- 
ner of  a  puppy  that  had  brought  a  stick  and 
been  punished  for  it. 

The  next  morning  being  Saturday,  she  was 
somewhat  surprised  to  find  Leigh  hovering  over 
her  bed  at  rather  an  early  hour.  The  children 
were  permitted  to  sleep  late  on  holidays.  Doctor 
Ravenel  insisted  upon  it 

"Get  dressed  and  come  into  my  room  at  once," 


92        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Leigh  commanded.  "Put  on  your  school  clothes." 

When  Caroline  appeared  at  the  door  across 
the  hall,  Leigh  pulled  her  into  the  room  quickly. 

"If  .the  girls  ask  where  you  are  going,  you  may 
say  I  am  sending  you  on  an  errand,"  she  said. 

"All  right.    Where  am  I  going?" 

"You  are  going  to  each  of  the  houses  where 
you  left  those  cards  yesterday  and  ask  for  them. 
Do  you  understand?  Ask  for  them!" 

"What  shall  I  say  I  want  them  for?" 

"You  may  say  that  you  made  a  mistake.  You 
will  not  be  far  from  the  truth." 

"Oh,  Leigh,  that  will  be  hard  to  do.  Couldn't 
you  go?" 

"I?    Scarcely.     Go  at  once  and  don't  loiter." 

From  behind  her  own  blind,  Leigh  watched 
the  dejected  little  figure  as  it  lagged  up  the 
street.  Annoyed  as  she  was.  she  could  scarcely 
repress  a  smile. 

A  half-hour  passed  and  Caroline  did  not  re- 
turn. Another  wTent  slowly  by.  Leigh  put  on 
her  hat  and  coat  and  walked  a  block  or  two. 

Presently  she  saw  Caroline  skipping  down  the 
street.  In  her  hand  she  held  five  begrimed  pieces 
of  cardboard.  Leigh  counted  them. 

"Where  is  the  other?"  she  demanded. 

"The  lady  couldn't  find  it,  but  it  didn't  matter. 
She  was  out  on  her  front  porch,  and  I  explained, 
so  she  understood.  She  asked  me  to  sit  a  while 


ADJUSTMENTS  93 

with  her.  We  had  a  lovely  time.  She  asked 
about  you  and  Mother  and  the  Major.  She  said 
she  had  seen  us  in  church." 

A  few  days  later,  Leigh,  coming  in  from  a 
walk,  found  a  very  charming  looking  woman 
chatting  with  her  mother  in  the  drawing-room. 
Maum  Kachel,  in  her  best  cap  and  apron,  was 
serving  tea. 

"Mrs.  Ludlow,  dear,"  her  mother  said,  in  pre- 
senting the  guest. 

"I  know  your  sister,"  Mrs.  Ludlow  said,  ex- 
tending a  cordial  hand.  "The  irresistible  little 
brown  one  who  calls  her  father  'Major.'  I  was 
just  saying  to  your  mother  that  I  hope  you  will 
let  us  borrow  her  often.  Unfortunately,  my  girls 
—  are  boys!" 

After  all,  Caroline  had  helped. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
OLD  MB.  TIME 

WINTER  in  Colorado,  the  Ravenel  family 
decided,  was  a  thing  of  moods  and  jests. 
Often  they  awakened  to  find  the  snow 
beating  against  the  window  panes  with  snch 
force  that  they  arose  in  alarm.  But  in  an  hour's 
time,  the  sun  had  pierced  the  mass  of  clouds 
hovering  to  the  north  and  dried  the  sidewalks 
so  that  rubbers  were  superfluous.  Yet  there 
were  times  when  the  old  Peak  drew  his  white 
hood  closer  about  his  ears  and  winked  at  "his 
subjects." 

Maumy  Rachel  seemed  to  sense  those  sportive 
moods. 

"Y'all  better  look  out  this  mawnin',"  she  would 
say  as  the  girls  started  for  school.  "I'se  gwine 
put  sompin'  extry  in  yer  lunch  basket.  Lord 
knows  when  y'll  get  home  agin.  Mebby  never. 
I  don't  lak  the  looks  of  the  ole  man  up  yander. 
He  got  a  bad  eye !" 

"He's  an  old  fraud,"  Caroline  declared. 
"Kathleen  says  they  haven't  had  any  sledding 


OLD  MR.  TIME  95 

here  since  goodness  knows  when.  He's  always 
making  such  a  rumpus,  but  it  never  amounts  to 
anything.  I  want  some  sleigh-riding  and  skat- 
ing." 

"Y'  jes'  wait,  Missy,"  was  Rachel's  warning. 
"Don't  be  too  sassy.  I  spec  he's  got  an  ear  out, 
if  he  does  wear  a  nightcap." 

All  of  which  showed  that  the  family  had  fallen 
in  line  with  the  populace  and  looked  upon  the 
old  monster  as  a  weather  king. 

There  came  a  day,  just  before  Christmas,  when 
he  went  on  what  Rachel  called  a  "bust."  He 
acted  so  badly  that  she  went  into  her  room  and 
hid  between  two  feather  beds  until  he  regained 
his  senses.  The  wind  began  in  the  morning, 
racing  up  the  street,  chasing  the  tumbleweeds 
and  scattering  the  dust  on  Judy's  clean  windows. 
Snow  began  to  fall;  lightly  at  first,  then  drop- 
ping in  such  big,  feathery  balls  that  the  family 
flocked  to  the  front  of  the  house  to  watch  the 
storm. 

There  was  no  school.  The  wind  forbade  walk- 
ing ;  the  snow  became  a  blinding  mass. 

About  noon  Doctor  Ravenel's  telephone  bell 
rang.  Leigh  answered.  It  was  a  call  to  a  desper- 
ately sick  child  on  the  west  side  of  town. 

"You  can't  possibly  go,  Father,"  Leigh  said, 
turning  toward  him  anxiously.  "You  would 
have  to  ride  into  the  storm  —  it's  all  from  the 


96        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

west  —  and  you  would  be  taking  a  frightful 
chance  with  your  health." 

"I  must  go  as  soon  as  it  clears,"  he  answered. 
"They  are  evidently  very  poor  people,  and  every 
one  has  refused  assistance." 

It  was  three  o'clock  before  the  storm  spent  it- 
self. On  the  streets  the  snow  lay  in  a  thick  pall, 
drifting,  in  places,  higher  than  a  man's  head. 
The  Peak  had  donned  his  long,  white  mantle. 

Leigh  was  not  wrell,  so  her  father  refused  her 
offer  to  accompany  him.  "I  shall  take  Caroline," 
he  said,  to  the  child's  great  joy.  "She  can  hold 
Selah  while  I  make  the  call." 

Rachel,  coming  out  of  seclusion,  brought  hot 
bricks  and  a  warm  buffalo  robe  (Mr.  Lee  had 
kindly  left  it  in  the  attic),  mumbling  her  dis- 
approval. 

"Marsa's  gwine  kill  hisself  for  these  po'  white 
trash,"  she  said  to  Judy.  "Ef  hit'd  bin  some- 
body wo'th  a  dollar,  he'd  a  tole  'em  to  wait  till 
mawnin'  "  —  which  was  the  truth. 

It  was  all  Selah  could  do  to  pull  through  the 
snow,  particularly  in  the  outskirts  of  town  where 
drivers  had  not  yet  ventured. 

As  they  neared  the  location  that  had  been 
given  him,  Doctor  Ravenel  began  to  look  about 
anxiously.  They  passed  the  last  house  on  the 
street  and  started  up  a  long  hill  that  led  to  a 
few  scattered  tents  well  on  the  rim,  Selah  pulled 


OLD  MR.  TIME  97 

valiantly,  stopping  now  and  then  to  get  her  wind, 
or  to  try  a  cautious  foot  in  the  white  blanket  that 
spread  before  her. 

"This  must  be  the  place,"  Doctor  Kavenel  said, 
stopping  at  a  tent  boarded  halfway  up  the  sides. 

Caroline  gave  a  gasp  of  surprise. 

"Oh,  Major,  not  there !"  she  cried.  "Why,  any- 
body would  die  in  a  place  like  that !  They  would 
freeze  to  death." 

Her  father  shook  his  head  as  he  pulled  a 
blanket  from  under  the  seat  to  cover  Selah.  Then 
he  tucked  the  robe  about  Caroline  until  only  her 
golden-brown  eyes  sparkled  above.  There  was  no 
need  to  hold  the  reins.  Selah  drooped  in  her 
tracks. 

Ten  minutes  passed,  and  the  doctor  lingered. 
Ten  more.  Caroline  fidgeted  under  the  robe. 
Her  curiosity  finally  got  the  better  of  her.  She 
wanted  to  know  what  was  going  on  in  that  miser- 
able make-believe  of  a  house. 

She  slipped  out  of  the  phaeton  and  edged 
around  to  the  back,  sinking  into  the  snow  above 
her  knees  as  she  went.  As  she  had  hoped,  there 
was  a  window,  a  small,  inadequate  affair,  but 
near  enough  to  the  ground  to  afford  a  peep 
within.  For  a  moment  she  forgot  cold  and  dis- 
comfort in  what  she  saw. 

On  a  pallet  made  of  rags  and  straw  lay  a  girl 
of  about  her  own  age,  tossing  and  moaning  with 


98        THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

delirium.  A  woman  knelt  beside  her,  caressing 
the  hot  forehead,  trying  to  stay  the  nervous,  out- 
flung  hands.  The  Major  sat  near,  watching  the 
child,  sometimes  catching  at  the  waving  hands, 
holding  them  for  an  instant,  his  fingers  on  the 
racing  pulse.  His  eyes  were  troubled. 

Beyond  the  woman  stood  a  sheet-iron  stove, 
cold  as  the  cheerless  room.  Caroline  saw  her 
father  button  his  coat  across  his  chest  and  turn 
to  the  woman.  She  shook  her  head  in  answer 
to  his  question  and  turned  away  her  face. 

Caroline  could  stand  no  more.  She  trudged 
back  through  the  snow  and  cuddled  under  the 
black  robe.  When  her  father  came  out  he  was 
very  silent. 

They  had  gone  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
when  Selah  stopped  before  a  comfortable  house. 
Doctor  Kavenel  rang  the  doorbell.  He  stood  for 
a  moment  speaking  with  a  kind,  motherly  look- 
ing woman.  She  went  into  the  house  and  came 
back  with  a  scuttle  of  coal  and  an  armful  of 
wood. 

Up  the  hill  Selah  plodded  again.  This  time 
the  Major  was  not  so  long.  He  looked  relieved 
when  he  came  back. 

"Were  —  were  they  —  cold,  Major?" 

"Very,  Caroline." 

"I  know  —  I  peeked  in  the  window  at  the  back. 
You  were  gone  so  long." 


OLD  MR.  TIME  99 

Instead  of  scolding,  he  looked  at  her  gravely. 

"I  am  rather  glad  that  you  did,"  he  said.  "It 
will  not  hurt  you  to  know  how  others  suffer. 
You  have  been  sheltered,  thank  God.  That  poor 
baby  in  there " 

He  did  not  finish  the  sentence. 

"But,  Major,  you  will  make  her  well.  You  can 
do  everything." 

"I  shall  try,  Caroline.  But  she  must  have  a 
great  many  things.  Warm  clothes  and  food,  a 
better  bed.  I  wonder  if  you  would  be  willing  to 
give  up  a  part  of  your  Christmas  —  the  tree,  per- 
haps, and " 

Caroline's  eyes  glowed.  "Oh,  could  I?"  she 
said,  and  her  voice  took  on  its  sweetest  cadence. 
"Could  I,  Major ;  would  you  let  me  ?" 

"We'll  talk  with  mother  about  it." 

Despite  the  heavy  storm,  Christmas  day  broke 
bright  and  clear.  The  sun  blazed  down  on  the 
old  Peak,  aiming  straight  at  his  snowy  hood. 
Doctor  Eavenel  called  Maum  Kachel  to  see  him, 
he  looked  so  friendly. 

The  servants  had  risen  early.  Caroline  heard 
Judy  at  Leigh's  door  long  before  breakfast  time, 
calling,  "Christmas  gif !  Miss  Leigh,  Christmas 
gif!"  And  then  Maum  Rachel's  deeper  tones: 
"Christmas  gif!  Miss  Em'bly.  Christmas  gif!" 

And  yet,  it  scarcely  seemed  like  Christmas 
when  the  family  congregated  in  the  drawing- 


100      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

room  before  breakfast,  as  was  the  usual  custom. 
Here,  in  the  land  of  pines,  there  was  no  Christ- 
mas tree;  but  red  berries  nodded  cheerfully  in 
copper  jardinieres  and  a  glowing  fire  crackled 
on  the  hearth. 

"It  doesn't  seem  in  the  least  like  Christmas," 
Mayre  said  to  her  mother,  "away  from  all  our 
friends  —  and  no  celebration." 

"We  are  all  together,  darling,  and  your  father 
is  gaining  every  day.  Is  not  that  enough?" 

"It's  everything!"  Caroline  had  overheard 
the  remark  and  cut  in  as  usual.  "And  I  would 
a  heap  rather  give  our  money  to  those  poor  peo- 
ple on  the  west  side  than  to  have  a  tree." 

Mrs.  Ravenel  stooped  and  kissed  the  hot 
cheeks. 

"It  is  better  to  give  than  to  receive,"  she 
murmured  softly. 

There  had  been  a  few  gifts,  to  be  sure,  mere 
reminders  of  the  day:  a  sketching  portfolio  for 
May  re,  a  new  blouse  for  Alison,  writing  paper 
for  Caroline,  who  was  always  scribbling  letters 
to  her  friends  at  home,  a  new  doll  for  Hope. 

The  servants  too,  had  been  remembered,  and 
while  pleased  with  their  gifts,  their  faces  held 
a  homesick,  longing  expression. 

The  early  morning  brought  a  pleasant  sur- 
prise. The  express  wagon  stopped  in  front  of 
the  house  and  a  man  carried  in  a  long,  preten- 


OLD  MR.  TIME  101 

tious-looking  box.  It  was  addressed  to  Miss 
Caroline  Ravenel. 

Judy  found  a  hammer,  and  Maum  Rachel, 
alert  and  expectant,  pulled  away  the  papers  and 
straw  that  hid  the  gift.  When  she  finally  un- 
covered it,  she  gave  a  cry  of  joy. 

"Fer  de  lub  of  de  Lord !"  she  cried.  "Ef  hit 
aint  ole  'Mr.  Time,'  Miss  Caroline.  Don't  he 
look  natural  —  big  as  life !  Well,  well,  de  good 
Gord  he  don't  ferget  the  poor  ole  Etheopes  after 
all ". 

"But  it's  mine,  Maum  Rachel " 

"Don't  make  no  difference  who  he  b'long  to. 
He's  gwine  to  hang  in  my  kitchen." 

She  lifted  the  old  clock  tenderly  and  laid 
her  face  against  the  cold,  scarred  one. 

"Le's  get  him  up,  Marsa,"  she  said  tremu- 
lously. "I  can't  wait  fer  to  hear  him  tick.  I 
knows  he's  got  a  lot  a  tales  to  tell  me  —  'bout 
ole  Virginny.  I  spec  he's  brung  a  message  from 
Rufus,  and  Marthy,  and  my  boy  Dorwin.  I 
specs  he  got  some'pin  to  say  'bout  little  Massa 
Willie  and  de  Jilsens." 

She  looked  at  Caroline  through  a  mist  of 
tears. 

"Aren't  you  glad  that  I  wrote  for  him, 
Maumy?  I  told  Mr.  Lee  how  we  missed  him — 
you  and  I  —  and  how  lonesome  he  was  without 
a  Kirtley  to  wind  him  up " 


102      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Maum  Rachel  didn't  let  her  finish  the  sen- 
tence. She  caught  her  in  her  arms  and  hugged 
the  breath  out  of  her. 

But  the  pleasantest  time  of  the  whole  day 
was  when  Maum  Rachel  began  packing  the  bas- 
ket that  Caroline  and  her  father  were  to  carry- 
to  the  Middleton  family  on  the  west  side. 
Caroline  put  on  her  long  gingham  apron  (since 
the  stay  at  the  Watts  farm  she  kept  one  handy 
and  never  murmured  about  helping)  and 
wrapped  the  fresh  bread  and  cake  in  white  wax 
paper,  poured  the  steaming  chicken  soup  in 
glass  jars  and  screwed  on  the  lids,  decorated 
Maumy  Rachel's  famous  mince  pie  (no  one  in 
the  world  could  make  mince  pies  like  Maumy) 
with  a  sprig  of  red  berries,  found  a  place  in  the 
basket  for  the  sliced  ham,  oranges  and  apples. 
She  brought  from  the  ice-box  a  pat  of  golden 
butter. 

"Let's  be  very  careful  where  we  put  this,  it's 
so  apt  to  get  squashed,"  she  said  handling  it 
gently.  "It's  hard  to  make." 

She  laid  it  in  the  basket  and  stretched  her 
arms,  remembering  the  pain  of  her  one  churning. 
She  had  never  looked  at  butter  since  that  day 
without  wincing. 

When  she  finished  with  the  basket  she  went 
up  to  her  own  room  and  stood  for  a  few  moments 
deep  in  meditation.  The  basket  was  a  gift  from 


OLD  MR.  TIME  103 

the  family.  Her  own  contribution  had  not  been 
decided  upon. 

She  brought  from  the  closet  her  warm  blue 
bathrobe  (Leigh  had  just  finished  it  a  few  days 
before,  for  the  old  one  was  getting  shabby)  and 
took  a  pair  of  knitted  slippers  from  the  shoe 
bag  on  the  closet  door. 

She  stood  for  some  minutes  before  her  bu- 
reau. Finally  she  opened  a  drawer  and  took 
out  a  small  velvet  box.  In  it  reposed  a  gold 
ring,  set  with  a  small  cluster  of  pearls.  It  had 
been  given  to  her  on  her  last  birthday,  but  as 
her  mother  did  not  approve  of  children  wearing 
jewelry  to  school,  it  had  been  put  away  for 
proper  occasions. 

Caroline  looked  at  it  long  and  tenderly.  Then 
she  put  it  away  and  closed  the  drawer  quickly. 

She  had  wrapped  the  robe  and  slippers  in  a 
paper  when  she  went  back  and  looked  at  the 
ring  again.  She  took  it  from  the  box,  tried  it 
on  her  third  finger,  held  the  hand  off  to  admire 
the  effect.  Then  she  laid  it  in  the  box  again. 
She  had  tied  up  the  package  and  started  for 
the  door  when  she  went  back  to  the  drawer. 
This  time  she  did  not  take  the  ring  from  the 
velvet  box.  She  opened  the  parcel  and  thrust 
it  inside  the  robe,  hastily  tying  the  package. 

"I'm  only  just  lending  it,"  she  said,  as  she 
sped  to  the  barn  and  tucked  the  parcel  under 


104      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

the  flap  of  the  carriage  seat.  "Some  day  when 
she's  well,  I'll  ask  her  for  it.  She  wouldn't 
keep  it  if  she  knew  how  much  I  love  it.  I'm 
just  going  to  let  her  wear  it  while  she's  getting 
well.  It  will  be  so  nice  to  look  at." 

The  tent  on  the  hill  was  not  nearly  so  dole- 
ful looking  this  time;  smoke  curled  from  the 
short  tin  pipe  in  the  rear,  and  the  snow  had 
vanished  from  the  yard,  so  magical  is  Colorado's 
sunshine. 

Once  more  Caroline  ventured  to  the  back 
window.  The  child  lay  white  and  exhausted 
on  the  pallet,  her  long,  neatly  brushed  curls 
spread  on  the  pillow.  The  mother's  face  was 
all  aglow. 

"She's  better,  isn't  she,  Major?"  Caroline 
said,  when  her  father  came  back  to  the  phaeton. 

"Yes,  she  is  going  to  live,"  he  answered  softly. 
"She  passed  the  crisis  last  night." 

"I  —  I  left  a  little  package  for  her  at  the  back 
door.  Do  you  suppose  they  will  find  it?"  she 
asked,  after  a  moment's  pause.  "I  shouldn't 
like  it  to  get  lost  —  or  stolen  —  for  it  was  some- 
thing nice." 

The  Major  assured  her  of  its  safety,  but  being 
very  much  occupied  with  his  own  thoughts, 
failed  to  inquire  what  the  package  held  or  if 
her  mother  had  been  consulted  in  regard  to  it. 

That  night,  when  Caroline  was  helping  Maum 


OLD  MR.  TIME  105 

Rachel  make  sandwiches  to  serve  with  hot 
chocolate  before  the  drawing-room  fire  (that  was 
always  a  part  of  the  Christmas  festivities),  she 
said  softly: 

"Did  <Mr.  Time'  really  bring  you  a  message, 
Maumy?" 

"E7m-hugh,"  Maum  Kachel  said,  tasting  the 
salad  dressing.  "He  sure  did."  She  glanced 
at  the  old  clock,  ticking  above  the  kitchen  sink. 
"He  told  me  a  heap  of  things." 

"What,  Maumy?" 

"Oh,  'bout  Eufus'  rheumatiz,  an'  Marthy's 
neuralgia,  an'  a  fine  new  pickaninny  they  got 
down  to  Dorwin's " 

"But  you  knew  all  that  before." 

"Not  the  p'tic'lars,  honey.  I  jes'  knew  fac's. 
They's  a  heap  a  difference." 

"Maumy " 

"Yes." 

"Do  you  suppose  he's  got  any  word  for  me?" 

"I  specs  so,  lammie." 

"Well  —  why  doesn't  he  tell  me?" 

"He  done  have  to  be  in  de  mood,  Missy.  I 
think  ef  you  come  in  here  long  'bout  bedtime 
and  set  down  in  my  ole  chair  —  when  de  house 
is  real  still  —  you'll  hear  all  you  wants  to  know 
—  and  see  things,  too  —  that  is,  ef  you  lay  yer 
head  back  and  shet  yer  eyes " 

"Do  I  have  to  come  alone,  Maumy?" 


106      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"I'll  be  somewhere  'round." 

It  was  after  the  rest  of  the  family  were  all 
in  bed  that  Caroline  crept  down  the  long  wind- 
ing stair  and  found  her  way  in  the  moonlight 
to  the  kitchen.  The  room  was  warm  and  cosy, 
still  spicy  with  Christmas  goodies. 

She  drew  the  chair  in  front  of  the  clock  and 
lay  back  against  the  turkey-red  cushion. 

"Mr.  Time"  paid  no  attention  except  to  say, 
"tick-tock,  tick-tock,  tick-tock." 

But  by  and  by  the  tick-tock  changed  to  words. 
Caroline  was  so  sleepy  she  could  scarcely  credit 
them  at  first,  but  gradually  she  got  their  mean- 
ing —  oh,  so  slowly,  for  her  ears  were  dull,  her 
eyelids  heavy. 

And  then  the  most  marvelous  thing  happened. 
She  was  at  home  again  —  out  in  the  back  yard 
that  ran  to  the  low  green  hills.  Willie  was 
there,  and  Mamie  Jilsen  and  Nora  McGee ;  they 
were  romping  —  hopping  over  the  woodpile  — 
chasing  the  chickens  and  the  old  turkey  gob- 
bler —  playing  at  hide  and  seek. 

And  just  as  she  was  starting  a  race  with 
Willie,  such  a  race,  for  Nora  was  clapping  her 
hands  and  betting  on  her;  Nora  always  bet  on 
Caroline  —  and  won  —  somebody  lifted  her  and 
carried  her  away  so  far  that  Willie  reached  the 
goal  while  she  was  struggling,  and  the 

Then  she  felt  herself  sinking  —  down  —  down 


OLD  MR.  TIME  107 

—  down  —  into  the  softest,  warmest  nest,  and  a 
coverlet  was  tucked  around  her  snugly,  and 
some  one  whispered: 

"Gord    bless    her    liT,    innercent    heart  — 
Maumy's  liT  gal  — 

"She's  gwine  fer  to  rest 
Per  de  win'  is  in  de  west 
In  de  west,  in  the  west 
Umn,  umn,  umn." 

And  she  fe"ll  asleep,  hoping  she  might  dream 
what  the  old  clock  forgot  to  finish. 


CHAPTER  IX 

NEW  FEIENDS 

"  T"  F  Mr.  Thoreau  had  lived  in  Colorado  he 
would  never  have  made  that  little  bon 
mot  about  Spring,"  Mayre  sighed  one 
windy  March  morning. 

"What  was  it  he  said?"  Alison  asked.  They 
were  in  the  breakfast  room  looking  out  on  the 
belated  garden. 

"Oh,  you  know.  Mother  read  it  the  other 
night.  'March  fans  it,  April  christens  it,  and 
May  puts  on  its  jacket  and  trousers!'  But  not 
here.  March  blows  it  away." 

"I  never  saw  such  wind  in  my  life,"  Alison 
complained.  "No  wonder  Maumy  hates  it.  She 
declares  that  some  day  it  will  pick  her  up  bodily 
and  carry  her  off." 

"Well,  if  she  lands  in  Virginia,  she  won't 
mind." 

For  a  moment  they  stood  looking  down  the 
avenue. 

"And  I  was  to  play  tennis  with  Jimmy  Lud- 
low  to-day.  We  had  it  all  arranged.  Oh  dear !" 

"And  I  wanted  to  get  the  sweet  peas  planted. 


NEW  FRIENDS  109 

See  that  wind !  It's  blowing  the  soil  off  the  top 
of  my  zinnia  beds.  No  one  could  nave  a  garden 
here.  Look  at  that  poor  peach  tree.  My  heart 
aches  for  it.  Every  time  it  sprouts  a  leaf,  zip 
comes  the  frost  and  nips  it.  I'd  give  up  try- 
ing." 

"Father  says  you  can  get  a  good  lesson  in 
patience  from  it.  'If  at  first  you  don't  succeed, 
try,  try '  "  Mayre  finished  with  a  laugh. 

"And  die  in  the  attempt." 

"Anyway,  you  would  have  tried.  You  would 
have  —  have  defied  the  frost  —  and  the  wind  — 
and " 

"Fate!"  finished  Alison.  "Peach  trees  were 
never  meant  for  Colorado, —  this  part  of  it,  any- 
way. It  can't  be  done.  Not  any  more  than  — 
than  Hopie  can  learn  music." 

The  steady  beat  of  a  five-finger  exercise  came 
from  the  region  of  the  drawing-room;  a  demon- 
stration of  Mrs.  Ravenel's  faith  in  providence. 
She  intended  to  have  one  musician  out  of  her 
five  possibilities.  She  had  begun  with  Leigh, 
descending  the  line  without  result. 

"From  whom  would  we  get  talent,  Mother 
dear?"  Leigh  once  asked.  "You  are  not  musical, 
neither  is  Father " 

"Your  Great-aunt  Caroline  was  exceptionally 
gifted,"  Mrs.  Eavenel  answered,  with  a  sigh. 
"I  remember  so  well  how  she  used  to  play  for 


110      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

us,  although  I  was  little  more  than  a  baby  when 
she  married  and  went  away  —  she  was  my  fath- 
er's youngest  sister " 

"You  couldn't  expect  her  to  do  more  than 
leave  us  her  money,  dearest,"  Alison  had  inter- 
rupted. "I  should  prefer  her  diamonds  to  talent 
• —  and  a  rope  of  pearls !" 

The  wind  continued  to  screech  and  roar  up 
the  street,  and  Alison  turned  with  a  frown. 

"I  reckon  I  might  as  well  go  and  dip  my 
white  blouse,"  she  remarked,  as  she  turned  from 
the  window.  The  next  time  you  see  it,  it  will 
have  colored  with  shame  —  to  a  blush  rose !" 

In  a  family  of  five,  clothes  became  a  problem. 
Alison  was  resourceful. 

Mayre  watched  her  as  she  turned  into  the  hall 
and  ran  lightly  up  the  stairs.  One  liked  to 
watch  Alison.  She  was  so  handsome,  her  move- 
ments so  graceful. 

She  was  taller  than  her  sisters,  though  not 
too  tall:  the  Kirtley  plumpness  (which  in  later 
years  usually  became  a  source  of  worry)  took 
from  her  height.  In  looking  at  her,  one  had  the 
impression  of  a  straight,  wholesome  young  crea- 
ture, alive  with  vitality.  Her  features  were  regu- 
lar, her  skin  fair,  an  olive  tinge  underlying  it,  her 
eyes  large  and  dark.  Like  all  the  Kirtleys,  she 
had  a  wealth  of  hair,  soft  and  brown  as  a 
thrush's  wing.  It  had  a  habit  of  straying  about 


NEW  FRIENDS  111 

her  temples  in  tiny  ringlets  and  like  tendrils 
curled  at  her  neck,  either  side  of  her  flat,  wide 
braid.  Alison  was  always  threatening  to  put 
her  hair  up,  but  so  far  Leigh  and  her  mother 
had  dissuaded  her. 

Mayre  was  altogether  different.  She  lacked 
Alison's  beauty,  but  there  was  a  distinction 
about  her  quite  as  arrestive.  She  was  neither 
dark  nor  fair.  Her  hair  was  brown,  sunnier  than 
her  sister's,  and  her  eyes  were  as  blue  as  violets. 
She  had  a  habit  of  keeping  them  half-closed,  as 
if  to  shut  in  visions,  but  when  she  opened  them, 
they  were  surprisingly  large,  their  expression 
wistful. 

Mayre  was  petite  and  dainty.  She  cared 
very  little  about  clothes,  so  long  as  they  were 
suitable  and  artistic.  She  had  very  definite 
ideas  about  the  making  of  them  though,  and 
often  designed  frocks  for  her  sisters. 

There  were  those  who  declared  that  Caroline 
gave  promise  of  "looks"  when  she  had  outgrown 
the  "gangling"  age  and  put  on  flesh.  At  eleven 
—  or  near  there  —  she  ran  to  legs  and  arms.  Her 
face  was  small  and  piquant;  her  mouth  wide 
and  shapely ;  her  nose  had  an  inclination  to  turn 
away  from  the  arched  red  lip  beneath,  an  uppish 
tendency  which  nature  had  thwarted  in  the  nick 
of  time,  for  a  degree's  curve  more  would  have 
made  its  irresistible  sauciness  commonplace. 


112      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

But  her  eyes  redeemed  whatever  her  face 
lacked  in  beauty:  expressive  eyes,  one  minute 
dancing  with  happiness,  the  next  clouded  with 
pain.  Sometimes  they  were  calm  and  placid, 
again  stirred  with  passion.  It  was  then  that 
they  lost  their  sunny  glow,  and  the  splashes 
grew  to  velvet  blackness. 

The  wind  died  about  noon.  At  two  Alison 
came  down  the  stairs  looking  like  a  rose  in  the 
disguised  blouse  and  white  wool  skirt.  Under 
her  arm  she  held  a  tennis  racket. 

"Will  you  be  at  home  for  tea?"  her  mother 
asked,  as  she  passed  her  in  the  hall.  Afternoon 
tea  wras  a  regular  institution  in  the  Kavenel 
household ;  they  were  quite  English  in  the  habit. 

"Perhaps,"  Alison  called  back.  "Ask  Maumy 
to  make  muffins.  Jimmy  loves  them." 

By  four  the  veranda  had  filled  with  chance 
guests,  for  people  were  beginning  to  enjoy  the 
hospitality  of  the  Southern  family  and  spoke 
often  of  the  delightful  atmosphere  in  the  trans- 
formed "Lee"  house. 

Mrs.  Ludlow  brought  her  work,  towels  which 
she  was  endlessly  embroidering,  and  Mrs.  Rave- 
nel  had  some  fine  sewring;  she  loved  to  whip  the 
lace  on  the  girls'  dainty  lingerie.  Doctor 
Ravenel  sat  near  —  he  was  seldom  busy  after 
four,  reserving  that  hour  for  calls,  when  neces- 
sary—  his  warm  plaid  steamer  rug  drawn  over 


NEW  FRIENDS  113 

his  knees.  March  is  often  sunny  at  the  foot  of 
the  Rockies,  but  not  always  warm. 

'A  little  farther  along  on  the  veranda,  Leigh 
sat  with  Blair  Newland,  Mrs.  Ludlow's  nephew, 
a  tall,  delicate  young  man  of  twenty,  who 
seemed  very  much  interested  in  Leigh's  handi- 
work —  or  her  hands  —  for  he  bent  toward  her. 
He  had  a  fine,  high-bred  face.  His  home  was  in 
New  York,  but  a  sensitive  throat  had  driven 
him  from  college  to  Colorado. 

Across  from  Mrs.  Ravenel  sat  Mrs.  Matthews, 
a  slight,  nervous-looking  woman,  who  had  spent 
her  life  in  Colorado  and  resented  the  slightest 
criticism  of  its  climate, 

If  one  complained,  Mrs.  Matthews  invariably 
said,  "but  you  mustn't  judge  us  by  this"  —  "this" 
meaning  wind  or  snow  or  sleet  —  "because  it  is 
most  unusual.  I  don't  know  when  I  have  seen 
a  windy  March  before.  Last  year  was  perfect. 
I  remember "  and  so  on. 

Mrs.  Matthews  had  a  son,  Smedley,  a  lean, 
lank,  obtrusive  youth,  generally  disliked  by  the 
young  people  in  the  neighborhood  and  at  high 
school.  He  was  one  of  those  persons,  to  be  found 
in  every  circle,  who  had  a  very  high  opinion 
of  his  own  ability  and  especially  of  his  humor, 
which  was  often  a  bore.  "Punny  Matthews", 
the  boys  called  him. 

He  was  not  present  this  afternoon,  but  his 


114      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

mother  kept  him  in  mind  by  constant  references. 

"If  you  will  excuse  me,  I  will  see  about  tea," 
Mayre  said,  when  she  had  tired  of  the  chatter. 
"Maumy  seems  to  be  late." 

As  she  spoke,  Caroline  came  up  the  veranda 
steps  with  Kathleen  Briggs,  and  Maumy  ap- 
peared at  the  French  window  with  the  service. 

It  was  always  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  daught- 
ers of  the  house  rallying  to  their  mother's  as- 
sistance. Caroline  immediately  took  around  the 
tea  napkins,  and  Mayre  stood  at  Mrs.  Ravenel's 
right  hand,  waiting  to  serve  the  tea  in  the  pink 
luster  cups.  No  one  was  ever  allowed  to  touch 
those  cups  but  Maum  Eachel,  and  she  would  have 
mourned  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  if  one  had  been 
chipped  or  broken 

"Sugar,  Mrs.  Ludlow?"  Mayre  asked,  as  she 
deposited  a  plate. 

Mrs.  Ludlow  looked  up,  smiling. 

"Say  it  again,  Mayre,"  she  begged. 

"gay  —  sugar?" 

"Please." 

"Sugar,  Mrs.  Ludlow?" 

Mrs.  Ludlow's  laugh  rippled  away  to  where 
the  Doctor  sat  smiling. 

"Oh,  these  adorable  children  of  yours!"  she 
called.  "Their  accent  is  the  most  delicious 
thing.  Sugah !  I  do  hope  it  won't  vanish  in  a 
Western  burr.  Mayre,  if  you  lose  your  accent, 


NEW  FRIENDS  115 

I  shan't  give  you  that  coming-out  party  I  prom- 
ised you  the  other  day.  Kemember!" 

"Smedley's  going  to  have  a  party  soon,"  Mrs. 
Matthews  began,  but  her  sentence  was  lost  in 
the  coming  of  Alison  and  Jimmy. 

All  eyes  turned  to  watch  them:  a  charming 
pair,  Jimmy  handsome  in  his  tennis  flannels. 

Alison's  face  was  flushed.  She  threw  her 
racket  to  Caroline  with  a,  "Carry  it  inside,  will 
you,  honey;  I  am  so  tired.  Such  a  game!  I 
trounced  Jimmy  soundly !" 

Caroline  moved  toward  the  door  slowly.  She 
could  not  take  her  eyes  from  her  sister. 

"Oh,  Alison,"  she  said,  "you  look  so  pretty 
with  your  face  all  pink.  It's  your  blouse,  isn't 
it?  It's  the  same  color."  Then  turning  to  the 
guests  proudly.  "She  dyed  it  this  morning.  It 
used  to  be  white.  You  didn't  think  at  first  you 
could  do  anything  with  it " 

A  warning  cough  from  her  mother  stopped 
the  information,  but  it  came  too  late.  A  laugh 
went  around  the  veranda. 

Caroline  stood  confused  and  ill  at  ease. 

"Shouldn't  I  have  told  it?"  she  asked  frankly, 
looking  from  her  father  to  her  mother. 

"Of  course  you  should,  you  bewitching  young- 
ster!" Mrs.  Ludlow  cried,  pulling  Caroline 
nearer.  "Why  not?  It's  the  very  thing  I  am 
going  to  do  to  one  of  Jim's  silk  shirts  —  only 


116      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

I'm  afraid  he  won't  stand  for  a  blush  rose " 

"Go  as  far  as  you  like!"  came  the  laughing 
tones  of  her  son. 

Caroline  wandered  over  to  her  father  and 
eat  on  the  arm  of  his  chair.  Maum  Rachel, 
passing  the  hot  muffins,  glared  at  her.  If  looks 
had  the  power  to  kill,  Caroline  would  have 
fallen  at  her  feet.  Maumy  was  furious.  Her 
"fam'bly's"  poverty  had  been  exposed  —  and  to 
rich  "Yankees,"  at  that! 

Doctor  Ravenel  patted  the  arm  flung  around 
his  neck : 

"  'A  wise  old  owl  sat  on  an  oak,' "  he  quoted. 

"I  know,  Major.  'The  more  he  saw  the  less 
he  spoke.' " 

"Exactly,  honey."  And  then,  "Want  to  go 
with  me  to  make  a  call?  I  am  going  on  the 
wrest  side." 

The  west  side  meant  the  Middleton  family. 

"May  I?  I  would  love  it  —  if  Kathleen  does- 
n't mind." 

Kathleen  shook  her  blond  head.  "I  had  to 
go,  anyway,"  she  said  obligingly. 

Eunice  Middleton  was  convalescing  slowly, 
but  she  was  able  to  sit  up  for  a  few  hours  each 
day.  Her  mother  had  her  before  the  little  tin 
stove,  which  was  warm  and  pleasant  to-day. 

Caroline  had  visited  her  once  before,  while 
she  was  still  in  bed.  To-day  she  looked  like  a 


NEW  FRIENDS  117 

frail  flower  wabbling  on  its  stem,  Caroline 
thought,  noting  the  drooping  head. 

"You  were  so  kind  to  give  me  this  robe,"  she 
said  weakly.  "So  very  kind  —  and  the  ring.  I 
just  love  it.  I  am  never  going  to  take  it  off  my 
finger  as  long  as  I  live." 

Caroline  swallowed  hard,  but  she  managed 
to  smile. 

"I  think  it's  pretty,"  she  said;  "it  was  given 
to  me  on  my  birthday.  I  —  I  love  it,  too." 

"Perhaps  the  little  girl  only  meant  to  lend 
it  to  you,  dear,"  the  mother  suggested. 

Eunice  looked  up  quickly,  and  her  blue  eyes 
clouded. 

"Did  you?"  she  asked. 

Doctor  Ravenel  was  watching  his  daughter's 
face  closely. 

"I  —  I  —  do  you  love  It  so  awfully  much?"  she 
stammered. 

"It's  the  only  pretty  I  ever  had  in  my  life,"  the 
child  answered,  and  her  lip  quivered. 

"Then  keep  it,"  Caroline  said  bravely,  her 
eyes  sweeping  the  barren  tent.  "I  am  glad  you 
have  it  —  and  the  robe,  too." 

That  night,  before  Caroline  slept,  she  had 
two  duties  to  perform.  The  first  was  an  apology 
to  her  sister. 

Mayre  and  Alison  were  preparing  for  bed, 
laughing  and  talking  as  they  brushed  and 


118      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

combed  their  long,  thick  hair.  The  room  with 
its  pink  shaded  light  was  softly  alluring.  Caro- 
line dropped  down  in  a  chair  and  listened  for  a 
moment  to  Alison's  patter.  It  was  about  Jimmy 
Ludlow  and  consequently  interesting. 

At  the  first  break  in  the  story,  she  began: 

"I  am  sorry  about  what  I  said  this  afternoon, 
Alison.  I  didn't  think " 

"You  never  do,"  Mayre  interrupted,  but  Ali- 
son, who  .was  quick  to  wrath  and  quickly  over 
it,  said: 

"Oh,  never  mind.  Have  some  candy  on 
Jimmy."  She  held  out  a  large  box.  Caroline 
took  a  handful. 

"My,  he  must  like  you !"  she  said,  looking  at 
Alison's  flushing  face. 

"I  —  I  rather  think  so  too,  honey,"  Alison  ad- 
mitted. "Kun  along  now.  I  am  going  to  put 
out  the  light." 

Her  mother,  as  usual,  was  sitting  before  a 
grate  fire  with  a  book  in  her  hand.  Caroline 
sat  on  the  side  of  her  chair  and  flung  an  arm 
around  her. 

"Mother,"  she  said  softly.  "Are  you  going 
to  care  —  I  gave  my  pearl  ring  to  that  little  sick 
girl  on  the  west  side  —  she  was  so  ill  —  so  ter- 
ribly ill  that  first  time  Major  and  I  went  to  see 
her.  And  the  tent  was  so  cold  —  Oh,  it  made  me 
sick."  She  shivered  at  the  memory.  "I  thought 


THEN  CAME  CAROLINE      119 

I  was  only  lending  it  at  first,  but  to-day  —  to-day 
she  had  it  on  —  she  loved  it  so  —  she  called  it  a 
'pretty'  —  said  it  was  the  first  one  she  had  ever 
had  —  and  I  couldn't  take  it  away  from  her, 
Mother.  I  am  sure  you  couldn't  have,  either. 
Please  don't  scold  me." 

Instead  of  scolding,  Mrs.  Ravenel  drew  the 
child  into  her  arms. 

"Darling,"  she  murmured,  "it  was  a  beautiful 
thing  to  do.  Father  has  told  me  how  desperately 
poor  they  are.  If  the  ring  gives  her  any  happi- 
ness, she  must  have  it,  of  course.  There  will  be 
more  for  you  some  day;  only  I  trust  that  you 
would  not  give  away  heirlooms." 

"When  Great-aunt  passes  on " 

Mrs.  Ravenel  smiled. 

"Or  some  of  yours.  Of  course,  I  don't  want 
you  to  die  —  mercy  no  —  but  I'd  like  the  cluster 
diamond  and  the  one  enameled  in  black  —  it 
makes  your  hand  look  so  white  and " 

The  clock  in  the  hall  below  was  striking  ten. 
Mrs.  Ravenel  kissed  Caroline  and  smiled  as  she 
gave  her  a  gentle  push. 

"It  is  an  hour  past  your  bedtime,"  she  ad- 
monished. "Good  night." 

"Good  night.  Oh,  but  you  are  dear,  Mother. 
And  so  pretty.  Sweet  dreams." 

It  was  the  old,  loving  adoration  that  prevailed 
in  the  household. 


CHAPTER  X 

ALISON  ENTERTAINS 

BY  a  strange  coincidence  Caroline's  birth- 
day and  Alison's  fell  on  the  same  day, 
April  fourteenth.  Always,  since  they 
were  small  children,  they  had  celebrated  the 
day  together.  Maumy  Rachel  never  failed 
to  provide  two  cakes  bright  with  candles,  one 
of  which  was  put  before  Alison  at  table,  the 
other  in  front  of  her  small  sister. 

But  the  spring  in  which  Alison  reached  six- 
teen and  Caroline  eleven,  there  was  an  upheaval 
in  regard  to  the  old  regime. 

"It  is  perfectly  ridiculous  for  us  to  celebrate 
together  any  longer,"  Alison  rebelled.  "Imagine 
Caroline  at  my  party  with  high-school  girls  and 
boys!  Who  would  dance  with  her?" 

"You're  afraid  they  all  would,"  Caroline  re- 
torted. "Jimmy  Ludlow  asked  me  to  save  two 
for  him,  and  I  could  have  lots  with  Smedley 
Matthews  if  I  wanted  them." 

"Well,  you  aren't  coming.  I  won't  have  the 
party  if  you  do,  that's  all.  You  can  have  some 


ALISON  ENTERTAINS          121 

of  your  own  friends  in,  the  day  before.  I  am 
perfectly  willing  to  help  entertain  them " 

"Thank  you,  you  needn't  bother.  I  won't 
have  a  party  on  a  day  that  doesn't  belong  to 
me.  The  fourteenth  of  April  is  as  much 
mine  as  it  is  yours.  And  I  am  coming  to  the 
party!  I  like  to  dance  with  nice  boys  as  well 
as  you  do." 

The  days  sped  on.  The  first  week  of  April 
had  passed  when  Fate  took  a  hand  in  the  plans. 

Down  in  front  of  the  old  stone  high  school  a 
flagpole  was  being  raised.  Children  from  the 
junior  grades  hovered  around  it  at  recess  and 
after  school.  When  it  was  finished  and  equip- 
ped, there  began  an  epidemic  of  climbing. 
Nimble-footed  urchins  crawled  up  and  slid  down 
daily,  and  once  or  twice,  when  the  boys  had 
gone  home,  girls  tried  the  feat. 

Kathleen  Briggs,  coming  out  of  the  building 
on  a  chilly  April  morning,  sauntered  by  the  pole 
to  watch  Jack  Wesley,  a  dare-devil  bully,  take 
his  usual  spin  to  the  top. 

Kathleen  was  standing  a  little  apart  from  the 
crowd,  her  blue  eyes  lifted  in  admiration,  when 
suddenly  she  felt  a  pull  at  her  long  flaxen 
braids,  and  the  next  minute  Bennie  Butler,  the 
incorrigible  joker  of  her  grade,  grabbed  her 
precious  new  spring  sailor  and  ran  shouting  to 
Jack. 


122      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"Bet  you  can't  take  this  up  with  you." 

"Bet  I  can,"  Jack  answered,  slipping  back  to 
reach  for  it. 

Kathleen  was  furious.  She  had  been  warned 
about  wearing  the  hat  to  school,  and  she  was 
very  susceptible  to  cold,  which  frequently  re- 
sulted in  tonsilitis. 

"Bennie  Butler,  you  bring  my  hat  back 
to  me  this  minute!"  she  called,  stamping  her 
small  foot  determinedly.  "That's  a  brand-new 
hat " 

"It  won't  be  when  Jack  gets  through  with  it: 
he's  going  to  put  it  on  top  of  the  pole.  He'll 
have  to  punch  a  hole  through  it.  You  won't 
have  any  more  hat  than  a  rabbit  when  he  gets 
through  with  it." 

Caroline,  coming  out  of  the  building  just  then, 
sensed  the  difficulty.  She  gave  Bennie  a  look 
that  cut. 

"My,  but  it  must  have  taken  a  brave  heart 
to  have  thought  of  such  a  dark  deed  in  so  short 
a  time,"  she  said  witheringly.  "Don't  mind, 
Kathleen.  Just  speak  to  Bennie's  mother  about 
it.  Let  her  pay  for  it.  How  much  did  you  say 
it  cost?  Six  dollars?" 

Bennie  looked  alarmed.  Several  broken  win- 
dows had  already  reduced  his  allowance. 

"Leave'r  halfway,"  he  shouted  to  Jack,  not 
wishing  to  capitulate  altogether,  and  Jack,  none 


ALISON  ENTERTAINS          123 

too  sure  of  his  hold,  hung  it  on  a  convenient 
spike  a  third  of  the  way  up. 

"Wait  until  they  go  away,"  Caroline  said, 
nodding  toward  the  boys,  "and  I  will  get  it  for 
you.  I  can  climb  as  well  as  they  can."  She 
measured  the  height  with  her  eye.  "Our  old 
apple  tree  at  home  was  as  high  as  that,  and  I 
used  to  nearly  live  in  it." 

They  loitered  up  the  street,  turning  back  when 
the  coast  was  clear. 

She  had  made  the  first  fifteen  feet  in  safety, 
when  Kathleen  called  that  the  boys  were  com- 
ing back.  Caroline  fumbled,  lost  her  hold,  then 
down  she  came  with  a  thud,  her  slight  little 
body  landing  on  the  dusty  playground. 

"Now  you  have  done  it !"  Kathleen  screamed 
to  the  frightened  boys.  "You've  killed  her. 
Look!  She's  knocked  senseless!" 

True,  she  was  dazed,  and  there  was  a  tingling 
sensation  in  her  nose  that  hurt.  It  bled  and 
ached  and  was  altogether  uncomfortable. 

"You  go  get  something  to  carry  her  home  in," 
Kathleen  ordered.  "She  can't  walk.  I  wouldn't 
be  surprised  if  she  hadn't  broken  both  her  legs." 

With  admirable  composure  (and  secret  de- 
light) Caroline  let  the  crowd  dump  her  into  an 
improvised  stretcher  and  the  procession  moved 
slowly  up  the  avenue. 

Leigh  saw  it  coming  and  hastened  to  close  her 


124      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

mother's  door.  Fortunately  Doctor  Ravenel 
was  at  home.  He  was  some  time  going  over  the 
little  form  stretched  on  the  pine  table,  and  his 
face  was  grave. 

"It  is  nothing  worse  than  a  broken  nose,"  he 
said  finally,  to  Leigh's  intense  relief. 

In  half  an  hour  Caroline  was  sitting  up  with 
a  bumpy  looking  bandage  over  the  middle  of  her 
face  and  a  worried  look  in  her  darkening  eyes. 
She  had  made  no  complaint,  asked  but  one  ques- 
tion: 

"Will  it  have  a  hump  on  it,  Major  —  my  nose? 
Seems  as  if  I  couldn't  stand  it  —  not  on  a  near 
pug.  It  would  be  awful." 

Her  father  bent  and  kissed  the  brown  fore- 
head peeping  above  the  bandage.  "It  is  going 
to  be  all  right,"  he  said. 

She  was  halfway  up  the  stairs  when  she  called 
back: 

"Major,  I  most  forgot.  Send  the  bill  to  Mrs. 
Butler  on  Willammette  Street  and  make  it  big. 
I'm  going  to  teach  Bennie  a  lesson.  I  don't 
see  why,  just  'cause  you're  a  surgeon,  you 
shouldn't  have  your  pay  for  fixing  me  up.  And 
you  might  add  six  dollars  for  Kathleen's  hat. 
It's  up  on  the  pole  yet,  and  the  wind's  rising." 

The  Major  smiled  as  he  turned  into  his  office, 
but  he  made  no  promises. 

Up  in  the  attic  sewing  room  the  week  before 


ALISON  ENTERTAINS          125 

the  party,  machines  buzzed  and  whirred  all  day 
long.  Miss  Wille  Macon,  the  Virginia  seam- 
stress, had  been  replaced  by  Miss  Ella  Younge, 
quite  as  efficient,  and  a  peach-blow  organdy  was 
in  the  process  of  construction  for  Alison. 
Dozens  of  tiny  ruffles  rippled  around  the  skirt, 
and  the  bodice  was  cut  in  a  round  neck,  a  great 
concession  on  the  part  of  Alison's  mother,  for 
in  "her  day,"  so  she  said,  girls  never  had  party 
dresses  until  they  "came  out." 

"You'll  be  perfectly  dar-ling  in  it,"  Caroline 
said,  watching  a  morning  fitting;  she  had  been 
out  of  school  for  several  days. 

Alison's  heart  smote  her  as  she  turned  to  look 
at  the  little  form  sitting  cross-legged  in  a  wide 
easy  chair.  Nothing  had  been  said  about  Caro- 
line's attending  the  party  since  the  accident: 
the  ugly  patch  still  worn  across  her  somber 
little  face  precluded  the  possibility ;  still,  it  was 
rather  mean  to  deny  her  the  fun  of  looking  on, 
when  she  was  so  uncomfortable  and  shut  in. 

"Major  says  my  patch  will  be  so  much  smaller 
that  it  won't  look  bad  for  a  party  at  all,"  she 
said,  letting  her  eyes  follow  the  billowy  ruffles. 
"Will  my  white  dress  be  done,  Miss  Younge?" 

"I  hope  so,  dear." 

"I  want  ruffles,  too,  just  like  Alison's.  I 
think  I  will  have  it  made  the  same  way." 

Alison  sighed  impatiently. 


126      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"It  would  not  be  at  all  becoming  to  you,  Caro- 
line, you  are  too  small;  besides,  I  told  you  the 
other  day  that  you  were  not  coming  to  the 
party." 

Alison  turned  in  time  to  catch  one  of  Caro- 
line's "faces." 

"There,"  she  said,  "that  proves  what  a  baby 
you  are.  Girls  who  are  old  enough  to  go  to 
dances  don't  make  faces." 

"I  wasn't,  I  was  just  — "  she  was  going  to 
say,  "turning  up  my  nose"  but  remembering  that 
was  impossible,  left  the  sentence  suspended. 

The  day  of  the  party  arrived.  Leigh  rose 
early  to  help  Judy  put  the  house  in  order. 
Maumy  Kachel,  busy  and  important  with  pound 
cake  and  hermits,  shuffled  through  the  kitchen 
and  pantries,  scolding  and  carefully  locking 
doors. 

"I  reckon  w'all  '11  show  them  Yankees  how 
to  serve  'freshments,"  she  said,  with  a  nod  of 
her  kinky  head.  "They'll  all  be  wantin'  my 
raspberry  shrub  and  cucumber  punch." 

"Make  everything  just  as  nice  as  you  can, 
Maumy  dear,"  Alison  coaxed,  thrusting  an 
anxious  head  into  the  fragrant  kitchen.  "We're 
not  going  to  have  much,  you  know,  so  it  must 
all  be  good." 

Mayre  was  also  busy  dusting  the  rooms,  giv- 
ing an  extra  brush  to  Aunt  Caroline's  smiling 


ALISON  ENTERTAINS          127 

face  and  Grandfather  Kirtley's,  seeing  that  the 
furniture  was  moved  for  dancing. 

Caroline  watched  the  preparations  with  a 
sinking  heart.  There  had  been  an  ultimatum 
in  regard  to  the  party;  the  Major  had  sided  with 
Alison.  The  Major,  who  was  always  on  her 
side!  The  disappointment  was  too  bitter  even 
to  think  about. 

As  Alison  had  said,  everything  was  to  be  ex- 
tremely simple,  not  alone  because  good  taste  de- 
manded it,  but  because  of  the  limitations  of  the 
Ravenel  purse. 

Doctor  Ravenel's  practise  was  increasing,  but 
money  was  always  scarce;  those  who  paid  for 
his  services  were  slow,  and  many  offered  pro- 
visions in  return  for  his  skill  in  setting  bones 
and  healing  chicken  pox  and  fevers. 

At  the  early  five  o'clock  dinner,  Caroline's 
cake  was  put  before  her  with  its  array  of  spark- 
ling candles,  but  she  listlessly  blew  them  out 
and  left  the  table  as  soon  as  she  had  cut  it. 

"Oh,  Mother,  she  makes  me  feel  so  horribly 
selfish,"  Alison  said,  between  a  tear  and  a  laugh. 
"But  she  would  be  out  of  place  at  the  party 
with  young  people  who  are  almost  grown  —  and 
that  patch  in  the  bargain !" 

Mrs.  Ravenel's  silence  did  not  help  Alison's 
feelings. 

"She  —  she's  just  spoiling  everything!  I  can't 


128      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

eat  a  bite  myself!  I  hate  seeing  her  so  un- 
happy." 

"She'll  get  over  it,"  Mayre  comforted.  "I 
think  you  are  perfectly  justified."  Mayre  was 
sharing  the  delights  of  the  evening. 

By  seven  o'clock  there  was  a  hasty  pattering 
of  feet  on  the  second  floor.  Alison  ran  back  and 
forth,  first  to  Leigh's  room,  and  then  to  her 
mother's.  The  new  frock  needed  a  pin  here,  a 
stitch  there,  a  gentle  pushing  down  of  the 
voluminous  ruffles. 

"Sure  it  doesn't  make  me  look  stout?"  Caro- 
line heard  her  say  to  Mayre,  and  Mayre's 
answer : 

"You  are  simply  stunning,  I  reckon  he " 

-  The  rest  was  lost  with  the  closing  of  Alison's 
bedroom  door. 

That  young  lady  came  into  Caroline's  room 
a  few  minutes  later,  with  a  "Want  to  see  me, 
honey?  The  dress  seems  to  be  a  success!" 

Caroline  turned  her  head  and  directed  her 
glance  to  the  house  across  the  way. 

Alison  sent  a  kiss  fluttering  toward  the  win- 
dow and  closed  the  door  softly.  She  was  a  little 
hurt,  but  she  had  no  intention  of  letting  Caro- 
line's disappointment  spoil  her  evening. 

The  music  had  begun  downstairs  when  Caro- 
line opened  her  closet  door  and  took  out  the 
white  dress  that  Miss  Younge  had  labored  to 


ALISON  ENTERTAINS          129 

finish  for  her  birthday.  She  threw  it  over  the 
back  of  a  chair  and  drew  her  best  lingerie  and 
stockings  from  the  wide  bottom  drawer.  Fortu- 
nately, Mrs.  Ravenel  had  thought  best  to  put 
Hope  in  the  guest  room  on  the  third  floor  for 
the  night,  lest  her  rest  should  be  disturbed. 

It  took  some  time  to  dress.  The  white  patch 
across  her  nose  (decreasing  daily  and  little  more 
than  a  strip  of  adhesive  plaster  now)  gave 
her  some  concern.  It  destroyed  the  effect  she 
wanted  to  produce.  However,  she  made  herself 
as  presentable  as  her  affliction  would  permit 
and  wandered  out  in  the  hall  to  look  down  on 
the  festivities  below. 

Around  the  wide  upper  hall  a  white  enameled 
fence,  topped  with  mahogany,  protected  a  central 
well.  Over  this  one  could  look  down  into  the 
hall  below;  in  fact,  the  view  was  sweeping. 

Back  of  the  rail,  leading  to  the  chambers,  a 
wide  strip  of  hall  gave  the  effect  of  a  mezzanine. 
Now  and  then  Caroline's  eyes  swept  it,  measur- 
ing its  length  and  breadth. 

For  some  minutes  she  watched  the  guests  be- 
low. Her  mother  was  very  handsome  in  her 
black  velvet  gown  (remnant  of  better  days) 
and  Mayre  sweet  in  a  blue  organdy  that  matched 
her  eyes. 

Leigh  was  looking  well  too,  in  white.  She 
kept  one  of  her  mother's  pretty  fans  waving 


130      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

languorously.  Now  and  then  Caroline  imitated 
the  graceful  gesture,  lifting  her  eyes  to  an 
imaginary  partner. 

It  was  just  before  the  third  dance  that  she 
spied  Jimmy  Ludlow  standing  beneath  her.  He 
seemed  very  tall  and  grown-up  in  his  evening 
clothes,  and  for  a  moment  Caroline  hesitated  to 
attract  his  attention. 

But  she  leaned  over  the  rail  and  let  loose  her 
little  white  handkerchief.  It  fell,  wandering 
and  wabbling,  to  Jimmy's  feet.  He  picked  it 
up,  and  not  having  seen  it  drop,  presented  it  to 
Alison. 

When  the  next  dance  was  over  she  dropped 
another,  —  her  very  best.  This  was  carried 
around  the  room  until  Muriel  Roach  (Caroline 
never  liked  her  afterward)  gracefully  accepted 
it  as  her  own  and  tucked  it  into  her  taffeta 
gown. 

The  third  was  more  successful.  It  fell  on 
Jimmy's  head.  He  looked  up.  Caroline  crooked 
a  finger.  Jimmy  took  the  stairs  two  at  a  time. 

"Hello,  youngster,"  he  said  amiably,  "What's 
the  matter  with  you?  Weren't  you  invited  to  the 
party?" 

Caroline  shook  her  head  and  her  creamy  lids 
fluttered  over  her  hazel  eyes.  Jimmy  suspicioned 
tears. 

"Jove,  that's  a  shame,"  lie  said.     Then,  "I'll 


ALISON  ENTERTAINS          131 

tell  you  what  —  let's  have  a  two-step  around  the 
hall,  here." 

It  was  even  easier  than  Caroline  had  hoped. 

"Couldn't  you  stay  for  the  next  one?"  she 
begged,  when  they  had  finished.  "It  —  it's  ter- 
ribly lonesome  up  here  all  alone  —  and  you  see  — 
my  nose " 

Jimmy  remained. 

"Send  somebody  else  up,  will  you?"  she 
asked,  when  he  said  he  must  go.  "And  Jimmy  — 
I'd  love  it  if  you'd  come  again  —  just  once 
more.  The  —  seventh  —  maybe  —  a  waltz  —  I 
could  pretty  nearly  die  dancing  with  you.  You 
are  so  easy  —  and  —  and  I'll  tell  you  what  Ali- 
son said,  if  you  will  —  a  T.  L." 

Jimmy  looked  hopeful,  but  uneasy. 

"Wouldn't  Smedley  do?" 

All  of  Caroline's  nose  that  could  wiggle  went 
skyward. 

"Or— Scotty  Randolf " 

"He's  better " 

"Maybe  Ned  Adams " 

"I  like  him  —  so  does  Mayre."  The  informa- 
tion slipped  out,  she  had  not  really  meant  to 
give  it. 

She  came  closer  and  put  her  little  brown  hand 
on  his  coat.  "I  tell  you  what  to  do  —  you  send 
them  all  —  one  at  a  time  —  and  I'll  give  you  the 
T.  L.  now.  Alison  says  that  you " 


132      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

She  hesitated  and  took  a  short,  swift  breath. 

"She  says  she  thinks  you  have  the  sweet- 
est mother —  (the  "mothah"  was  deliciously 
drawled)  and  the  loveliest  dogs  —  and  —  and  — 
you  will  send  them,  won't  you?" 

"Sure  I'll  send  them  —  in  droves " 

"And  she  thinks  that  you " 

Caroline  hesitated  and  Jimmy,  laughing, 
slipped  a  hand  over  her  red  lips. 

"Let  me  guess,"  he  suggested;  "that  would  be 
fairer."  But  he  left  without  another  word. 

Ned  Adams  came  first.  There  was  a  glorious 
romp  around  the  hall.  Scotty  came  next:  he 
wasn't  such  a  good  dancer,  but  he  was  lots  of 
fun.  Smedley  also  wandered  up  and  worked 
off  a  few  puns  on  noses.  And  then  Jimmy  came 
again,  with  an  ice  and  a  piece  of  Maumy 
Rachel's  pound  cake,  promising  another  dance, 
but  it  was  Maumy  herself  who  put  a  stop  to  it. 

"What  y'all  think  you  doin'  up  here?"  she  said, 
eyeing  the  culprit,  arms  akimbo.  (Jimmy  had 
made  his  escape.)  "What  y'all  mean,  takin' 
away  yer  sister's  beaux  and  holdin  high  jinks 
all  by  y'self?  WThat  you  think  Miss  Leigh's 
gwine  say  'bout  hit  when  I  tell  her?" 

"It's  my  birthday,  just  as  much  as  it  is  Ali- 
son's. 

"You  done  had  your  cake  at  dinner." 

Caroline's  great  yellow  eyes  gleamed  disgust. 


ALISON  ENTERTAINS          133 

"Cake!"  she  said.  "Cake!  What's  your  old 
cake  to  a  dance  with  Jimmy  Ludlow,  I'd  like 
to  know.  And  Alison  had  better  look  out.  He's 
very  much  enamored  of  me.  He  said  so.  And 
we  made  some  engagements  together  —  to  go  to 
the  circus  when  it  comes  this  summer  and " 

With  a  snort  Maumy  Rachel  went  back  down- 
stairs. 

That  night,  just  before  she  closed  her  tired 
eyes,  Allison  said  to  Mayre: 

"I  am  glad  that  I  am  five  years  older  than 
Caroline  and  wron't  be  on  the  scene  when  she 
comes  along.  Lots  of  chance  I'd  have.  Why, 
to-night,  Jimmy  Ludlow  raved  about  her  — 
thinks  she's  the  most  fascinating  child  he  ever 
saw.  It's  just  as  well  she  couldn't  come  to  the 
party." 

And  Mayre,  having  witnessed  a  part  of  the 
entertainment  on  the  second  floor,  kept  a  dis- 
creet silence. 


CHAPTER  XI 
IN  THE  TOWER 

IT  was  Jimmy's  fault,  of  course,  though  he 
was  quite  innocent  of  the  effect  he  had 
produced  upon  Caroline's  highly  imagi- 
native mind. 

Two  days  after  the  dancing  party,  she  asked 
a  favor  of  her  father. 

"May  I  have  the  tower  room  for  a  den,  Major? 
I  want  to  do  some  literary  work,  and  I  have  to 
have  a  place  that's  quiet." 

"More  dramas?"  the  doctor  inquired. 

"Maybe  —  yes." 

"I  have  no  objection,  so  long  as  you  let  me 
share  the  sunset  and  have  a  look  at  the  Peak 
through  the  telescope  once  in  awhile."  The 
telescope,  resurrected  from  the  attic,  was  often 
in  demand. 

"Surely.    I'll  have  a  key  made  for  you." 

"You  don't  want  to  lock  the  room?" 

"Of  course.  Don't  you  lock  your  office?  Peo- 
ple would  be  bumping  in  all  the  time." 

The  doctor  could  scarcely  consent  to  that. 

"Could  I  have  the  desk  that  Mr.  Lee  left  in 


IN  THE  TOWER  135 

the  attic,  then  —  the  one  with  the  roll  top?  I 
could  lock  that." 

The  Major  had  no  objection. 

It  took  some  hours  to  get  the  little  room  in 
order.  Along  with  the  desk  came  a  bookcase 
and  a  worn,  but  comfortable  chair;  a  couple  of 
uniformed  soldiers  in  round,  hard- wood  frames, 
ancestors  that  had  been  relegated  to  the  room 
under  the  roof. 

It  was  very  cosy  when  Caroline  finished.  "The 
child  has  quite  an  idea  of  furnishing,"  Mrs.  Kav- 
enel  said.  Mayre  had  made  several  excellent  sug- 
gestions. 

Every  moment  that  Caroline  could  spare  from 
school  and  play  was  spent  in  the  den.  It  was 
a  pleasant  retreat.  Across  the  street,  which 
curved  toward  the  mountains,  stood  the  Ludlow 
dwelling,  large  and  handsome.  It  twisted  a  bit 
with  the  street,  as  if  to  court  favor  with  the  old 
monster  in  the  west,  its  shingled  sides  and 
pointed  gables  proclaiming  its  autocracy. 

But,  handsome  as  it  was,  it  could  not  compete 
with  the  house  beyond,  toward  the  mountains; 
the  large  English  mansion  that  had  been  closed 
for  two  years,  so  Kathleen  said,  weaving  a  pretty 
romance  about  it. 

A  young  nobleman  had  come  from  England 
with  his  bride,  bringing  servants  and  furniture, 
his  carriages,  horses  and  hounds,  for  he  knew 


136      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

that  Colorado  must  always  be  his  home  because 
of  the  frailty  of  his  young  bride.  They  had  taken 
a  smaller  house  in  the  neighborhood  while  the 
larger  one  was  being  completed,  watching  it  grow 
with  pride  and  pleasure,  planning  the  great  airy 
chambers,  the  wide  verandas,  the  splendid  gard- 
ens. There  had  been  but  one  year  of  happiness. 
Then  the  wife  died,  and  turning  the  house  over 
to  a  caretaker,  the  young  husband  returned  to 
England. 

Caroline  always  sighed  when  she  looked  at 
the  place.  Over  it  hung  a  veil  of  mystery.  Some- 
times she  and  Kathleen  walked  through  the 
grounds,  gazing  romantically  at  the  south  cham- 
ber with  its  sunny,  glassed-in  gallery  where  the 
young  wife  had  died. 

Kathleen's  descriptions  of  her  were  alluring: 
she  dwelt  long  and  tenderly  on  her  beauty,  her 
fluffy  negligees,  her  marvelous  shawls,  the  retinue 
of  servants. 

"And  you  used  really  to  see  them  walking  to- 
gether," Caroline  would  ask  with  awed  interest, 
"out  in  the  gardens  there?" 

"Often,"  Kathleen  answered,  "and  always  she 
had  her  arm  through  his,  and  sometimes  she 
leaned  on  him  a  little  —  like  as  if  she  wras  awful 
tired."  (The  Briggs  fortune  had  bought  every- 
thing but  good  English.) 

"Was  he  tall  and  handsome?" 


IN  THE  TOWER  137 

Kathleen  was  sorry  to  admit  that  he  was  not. 
He  was  "just  medium"  but  distinguished,  and 
with  an  accent  —  oh,  an  accent  that  shouted 
"London."  People  said  they  were  very  snobbish, 
though  once  when  Kathleen  had  returned  a  lost 
puppy  to  him  he  had  smiled,  thanking  her 
warmly. 

Now,  however,  "The  Lodge,"  as  it  was  fa- 
miliarly known  to  the  townsfolk,  was  but  a  mem- 
ory, —  one  of  those  bitter  tragedies  that  so  often 
stalk  through  Colorado  villages. 

Perhaps  it  was  not  all  Jimmie's  fault.  Per- 
haps Kathleen's  tales  of  the  Lodge  and  a  goodly 
dose  of  light  fiction,  borrowed  from  the  Briggs 
library  and  secreted  in  the  den,  helped,  but  Caro- 
line's wayward  fancy  soared.  The  old  desk  be- 
came a  receptacle  for  reams  of  letters  written  in 
her  round,  childish  hand.  They  were  tucked  in 
every  pigeonhole:  some  were  tied  in  packets,  with 
lingerie  ribbons  in  elaborate  bows. 

Alison,  going  to  the  den  one  day  for  a  lost 
book,  found  the  desk  open,  a  very  unusual  occur- 
rence. A  half-finished  epistle  partially  covered 
with  a  blotting  pad  caught  her  eye.  Mayre  would 
never  have  thought  of  perusing  a  correspondence 
not  her  own,  but  Alison  was  different.  With 
her,  curiosity  often  got  the  better  of  principle. 
She  removed  the  blotter  and  looked  at  the  head- 
ing. 


138      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

The  first  words  brought  a  gasp  of  astonish- 
ment. 

"My  dearest :"  the  letter  began.  "Your  beauti- 
ful violits  and  orchads  came  this  morning  and  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  the  messengers  of  your  heart 
cheered  my  spirits  and  did  me  good.  How  kind 
you  are  to  think  of  me  and  to  send  orchads  that 
are  so  expensive  specially  at  this  time  of  the 
year,  and  in  Colorado  where  they  don't  do  well. 
I  expect  my  dear  one  that  I  must  chide  you  for 
this  extravegince,  for  we  must  now  be  saving 
our  principle  for  our  marrage 

"Every  since  the  night  that  we  danced  to- 
gether and  you  told  me  of  your  enamerement  I 
have  loved  you  with  a  passion  that  is  heavenly 
and  it  gives  me  great  contentment  to  know  that 
my  feelings  are  returned. 

"Am  glad  to  know  that  you  are  thinking  of 
speaking  with  the  Major  about  us  soon,  but  it 
causes  me  a  good  deal  of  excitement  as  he  is 
likely  to  think  me  to  young  to  accept  of  an  en- 
gagement. I  think  you  would  perhaps  better 
come  over  some  time  when  he  is  about  to  make  a 
call  and  drive  Selah  for  him.  He  always  gets 
interested  in  the  seenry  and  you  could  drive  fast 
and  get  it  done  with  quickly.  It  would  be  better 
to  ask  him  than  Mother  as  she  would  want  to 
know  who  your  grand  father  was  I  am  sure  and 
if  he  was  fit  to  woo  a  Kirtley " 


IN  THE  TOWER  139 

The  letter  was  so  delectable  that  Alison  reached 
for  another.  It  was  brief,  beginning: 

"The  news  that  your  father  is  coming  to  look 
me  over  fills  me  with  fright.  Suppose  dear  one 
he  should  not  like  me.  Have  you  told  him  I 
wonder  about  the  spots  in  my  eyes  and  my  nose 
a  little  uppish.  It  is  always  best  to  be  honest, 
especially  with  your  relatives,  they  always  find 
out  everything  anyway.  Has  he  a  faveret  color? 
If  he  has  and  you  would  let  me  know  I  would  be 
pleased  to  put  it  on  and  do  everything  in  my 
power  to  win  his  delight.  Thank  you  again  for 
the  beautiful  roses  which  I  have  pressed  in  our 
Kirtley  bible  that  no  one  ever  looks  at  except 
to  see  how  old  we  are.  There  they  are  safe  from 
mortal  eyes  as  Mother  hates  to  see  it  written 
down  that  I  was  born  in  Vermont  which  is  the 
same  as  the  North.  Virginia  is  really  my  home, 
Warrensburg  which  my  grandfather  and  General 
Warren  started  some  years  ago. 

"Your  adoring  fiancie 

"Caroline  Kavenel 
"P.  S.    Do  you  speak  French?" 

The  fourth  letter  was  so  absorbing  that  Alison 
found  it  difficult  to  hide  when  she  heard  foot- 
steps on  the  stair.  She  turned  guiltily. 

Caroline  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance.  A 
dark  flame  stained  her  face,  in  her  eyes  a  storm 
gathered. 


140      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Alison's  giggle  turned  to  confusion. 

"It  was  so  funny,  honey ;  I  saw  the  beginning 
and " 

"Read  it  all!  My  private  correspondence. 
That's  your  idea  of  honor!" 

She  snatched  the  letter  from  its  hiding  place 
and  tore  it  into  shreds.  Then,  with  the  air  of  a 
tragedy  queen,  pointed  a  slim  forefinger  toward 
the  door. 

"Leave  my  room  this  minute.  This  minute! 
I  won't  have  you  here.  You've  done  a  horrid, 
unladylike,  sneaky  thing.  And  I  —  I  hate  you 
for  it!" 

"Oh,  darling " 

"You  needn't  darling  me.  It  won't  go.  And 
if  you  mention  this  to  anybody " 


"I  hadn't  thought  of  mentioning  it 


"I  don't  know  what  you'd  do.  But  let  me 
catch  you.  I'll  get  even."  The  specks  in  the 
flashing  eyes  had  spread;  they  were  black  and 
threatening.  "I  promised  a  friend  of  yours  a 
trade  last,  and  I'll  make  it  a  dandy." 
"Just  you  dare.  Let  me  catch  you !" 
"Oh,  no.  I  won't.  I'm  not  so  silly  as  to  let 
people  catch  me.  Trouble  with  you  is  you  are 
too  pretty  to  be  smart.  Maumy  Rachel  says  the 
good  Lord  always  knows  when  He's  done  enough 
for  people  —  looks  and  brains  are  natural  ene- 
mies." 


IN  THE  TOWER  141 

"It  is  time  you  were  rising  above  Maumy 
Rachel's  silly  clatter." 

"Silly !  She's  got  more  sense  in  a  minute  than 
you  have  in  your  life.  She  wouldn't  read  other 
people's  letters." 

The  thought  of  poor  old  Maumy,  who  didn't 
know  A  from  B,  made  Alison  smile. 

"Oh,  I  know  well  enough  she  can't  read  — 
but  —  but " 

The  sentence  stopped  in  a  sob ;  Caroline  flung 
herself  down  on  the  window  seat  and  burst  into 
tears. 

Alison  stooped,  trying  to  caress  the  thick  ropes 
of  hair.  She  was  pushed  off  rudely. 

"Go  on  out  of  my  room  and  never  come  in  it 
again !" 

Alison  went. 

The  storm  spent  itself  after  a  while,  and  Caro- 
line sat  up.  For  a  time  she  was  lost  in  thought. 
She  dreaded  going  downstairs  to  tea,  for  of 
course  Alison  would  tell  the  family,  and  they 
would  all  laugh  —  laugh ! 

The  thought  cut  into  her  heart  like  a  thrust. 
She  loved  a  joke,  even  on  herself,  but  ridicule,  • — 
that  was  beyond  endurance. 

She  went  into  the  guest  room  and  bathed  her 
swollen  eyes.  Then  she  crept  down  the  back 
stairs  and  out  into  the  yard. 

Kathleen  beckoned  her  over,  but  she  was  in 


142      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

no  mood  to  visit,  so  she  strolled  through  the  back 
gate  and  on  toward  the  hills. 

In  May,  Colorado  is  in  her  gentlest  mood.  The 
wind  becomes  a  playful  zephyr;  the  air  is  warm 
and  invigorating.  Verandas  filled  with  invalids, 
drinking  in  the  sunshine;  the  highway  is  a  vast 
procession  of  carriages,  flying  motors,  and  horse- 
back enthusiasts. 

Caroline  wandered  up  the  street,  hatless,  coat- 
less,  letting  the  breeze  fan  her  hot  temples  and 
aching  head.  She  sniffed  the  air  as  she  had  seen 
her  father  do,  filling  her  lungs  with  deep 
draughts. 

Over  the  fields  of  grass  and  stubble  the  sun- 
shine gleamed,  warming  the  peeping  anemones, 
the  blue  bells  and  larkspur.  Now  and  then  Caro- 
line stopped  to  pick  a  handful,  absently,  as  if 
her  thoughts  were  miles  away. 

She  took  the  road  that  led  to  the  mesa  above 
the  village,  a  broad  open  space  frequented  by 
the  rich.  She  sat  down  in  a  patch  of  struggling 
grass  to  watch  the  endless  procession  of  car- 
riages, brilliant  with  red  and  green  or  orange 
parasols,  held  above  handsome  women  and  care- 
free men. 

My,  but  it  must  be  nice  to  be  rich  and  loll  back 
like  that,  she  thought,  as  an  unusually  handsome 
Victoria  passed,  —  Coloradoans  had  not  yet  given 
up  their  spanking  bays  and  tandems  for  motors. 


IN  THE  TOWER  143 

But  after  a  while  she  turned  her  eyes  from  the 
road  and  let  them  wander  to  the  mountains 
chiseled  against  the  sky.  To-day  they  were  warm 
and  friendly :  the  Peak  had  slipped  back  his  hood, 
lost  his  brooding  look;  there  was  a  cordial  at- 
mosphere about  him. 

"Maumy  would  like  him  to-day,"  Caroline 
thought,  squinting  at  his  bulging  head  and  wide- 
flung  arms,  "if  she  would  only  look,  but  she's  so 
stubborn." 

She  was  so  interested  in  the  wavering  outline, 
her  busy  mind  fancying  all  sorts  of  romances 
about  the  towering  pines,  the  peaks,  the  animals 
that  crossed  those  snow-filled  chasms  that  she 
was  startled  when  a  voice  called,  "Hello,  Caro- 
line, what  are  you  doing  way  out  here  all  by 
your  lonesome?" 

Jimmy  Ludlow  grinned  down  on  her  from  his 
spirited  horse. 

"Just  —  looking " 

"The  old  man's  quite  human  to-day,  isn't  he? 
Seems  to  be  looking,  too."  He  waved  his  riding 
crop  toward  the  mountains. 

"I  was  just  thinking  that,"  Caroline  said,  with 
a  flashing  smile.  "I  wondered  what  he  thought 
about  everything  down  here " 

Jimmy  dismounted,  and  stretching  his  long 
limbs  beside  her,  let  Minto  bite  at  the  sweet 
grass. 


144      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Caroline  eyed  him  from  the  tail  of  her  hazel 
eyes. 

"You  look  nice,"  she  said,  when  she  had  made 
a  more  complete  survey.  "I  like  you  in  riding 

clothes.  They  make  you  look "  she  couldn't 

think  of  a  word,  but  in  a  moment  added  —  "dis- 
tinguished." 

Jimmy  doffed  his  hat,  and  running  his  hand 
through  his  light,  pompadoured  hair,  smiled. 

Caroline  took  another  look,  slyly.  Her  eyes 
were  rewarded.  Jimmy  in  his  riding  togs  was 
all  that  she  thought  —  and  more.  From  his 
father  he  had  taken  height,  but  his  mother  had 
given  him  his  clear  gray  eyes,  his  fine  nose,  his 
pleasant  smile  and  white,  even  teeth. 

Colorado  had  done  the  rest:  put  the  snap  in 
his  strong,  athletic  body,  whipped  his  face  to  a 
healthy  tan. 

"Distinguished,"  he  repeated,  with  his  quick, 
short  laugh.  "You  are  looking  rather  nice  your- 
self to-day,  Caroline." 

"No,  I  am  not." 

"No?" 

"I  look  horrid.    I  —  don't  you  see  my  eyes?" 

"I  thought  it  was  your  nose " 

"Oh,  that's  well.  I  mean  I  —  I've  been  crying. 
I  got  mad " 

"No!" 

"Yes,  I  did." 


IN  THE  TOWER  145 

"Terrible!" 

"Do  you  think  it's  honorable  to  go  into  peo- 
ple's things  and  look  them  over  —  correspond- 
ence—  that  is  private?" 

Jimmy  scratched  his  head  and  puckered  his 
mouth,  but  his  answer  was  guarded. 

"I  would  have  to  know  the  particulars,"  he 
said.  "Want  me  to  be  your  policeman?" 

Caroline's  red  lips  parted  in  a  smile,  but  they 
tightened  again.  A  Kirtley  adage  popped  into 
her  mind. 

"Thank  you,  but — but  our  family  always  keeps 
a  veil  between  itself  and  the  world." 

Jimmy's  laugh  started,  but  the  serious  face 
beside  him  checked  it. 

"Feeling  pretty  low,  eh?" 

"Quite." 

He  thought  for  a  minute. 

"Suppose  I  go  home  and  get  Pinto;  it  will  only 
take  a  few  minutes,  and  we'll  have  a  trot  over  the 
hill." 

"Could  you?  I  haven't  been  on  a  horse  since 
I  left  home." 

Jimmy  was  back  in  a  few  minutes. 

"I  stopped  at  the  house,"  he  said,  "and  brought 
your  sweater." 

He  held  it  open,  a  tawny,  brownish  thing  that 
softened  her  eyes  to  topaz.  Mayre  always  in- 
sisted upon  Caroline's  wearing  brown  or  yellow. 


146      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Jimmy  made  a  cup  of  his  hands  and  Caroline 
jumped  from  them  to  the  horse's  back. 

"Fine!"  he  complimented.  "You  did  that  like 
a  real  circus  lady." 

"Oh,  I  often  rode  Calico  standing  up  —  and 
without  a  saddle.  I  once  thought  of  joining  a 
circus,  but  Major  wasn't  very  well,  and  Mother 
thought  it  would  disgrace  the  Kirtleys " 

"So  you  chucked  it.  Agreeable  of  you,  Caro- 
line." 

He  turned  an  admiring  glance  at  the  little 
form  in  the  saddle.  He  liked  the  way  she  sat, 
as  if  she  were  a  part  of  Pinto.  When  he  trotted, 
she  rose  in  the  saddle  with  an  ease  that  surprised 
him. 

He  watched  her  face,  alight  with  pleasure  and 
excitement.  The  soft  wind  blew  the  hair  back 
from  her  full  forehead,  her  head  inclined  for- 
ward; a  beautiful  head,  swaying  above  the 
slender  sun-tanned  neck. 

"I  would  like  to  see  that  hair  wreathed  on  top," 
Jimmy  thought,  following  the  graceful  lines. 
She's  going  to  be  some  looker  when  she  grows  up. 

He  let  Caroline  do  the  talking,  drawing  her 
out  now  and  then  with  a  sly  bait  (not  for  nothing 
was  he  some  day  going  to  be  a  lawyer),  enjoying 
her  comments,  her  rich  Southern  accent. 

Before  they  had  gone  three  miles  he  had  been 
introduced  to  the  old  mansion  in  the  South,  to 


IN  THE  TOWER  147 

Kufus  and  his  wife  Charity  Lou,  Willie  Boland, 
the  Jilsens  and  McGees ;  he  knew  Aunt  Caroline, 
too,  and  how  her  fortune  was  to  be  distributed, 
of  Mayre's  talent  for  art,  which  was  to  make 
her  famous  as  a  landscape  gardener. 

Of  Alison  there  was  never  a  word.  But  Caro- 
line was  sorely  tempted;  once  the  information 
that  Alison  was  not  quite  reliable  almost  escaped 
her,  but  the  Kirtley  "veil  that  shut  out  the  world" 
dropped  in  time.  Her  lips  became  a  grim  line. 

"I  reckon  I've  been  doing  most  all  the  talking," 
she  admitted,  when  they  turned  homeward.  She 
was  silent  for  a  moment,  wondering  if  she  had 
said  more  than  she  should.  Maumy  Rachel  was 
always  cautioning  her  about  "fam'bly  secrets." 

"I  have  been  very  much  entertained,"  Jimmy 
declared.  Jimmy  was  eighteen  and  easily 
amused. 

"Tell  me  something  about  yourself." 

"There  is  not  much  to  tell,  Caroline.  My 
mother  has  given  up  her  plan  of  making  me 
President  of  the  United  States  and  has  com- 
promised on  Princeton ;  she  still  has  a  sneaking 
hope " 

"You  are  going  to  college?" 

"In  the  fall." 

"How  wonderful.  Will  you  be  gone  four 
years?" 

"If  they  keep  me — vacations  excepted." 


148      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"You  will  come  home  for  those?" 

"You  couldn't  chain  me  East  in  the  summer 
time." 

"I  know.  I  love  it  too."  Her  hand  swept  the 
mountains.  "Maumy  says  they  shut  you  in  — 
those  old  rocks  —  but  I  always  feel  they  are  a 
gateway  —  to  something  nicer.  Have  you  been 
on  the  other  side?" 

"Yes." 

"What's  over  there?" 

"More  mountains." 

"Lots  more?" 

"Heaps!" 

She  slid  from  Pinto's  back  when  they  reached 
home  and  threw  the  reins  to  Jimmy. 

"Thank  you  for  a  wonderful  time,"  she  said, 
"and  some  day  —  when  you  are  low  yourself, 
come  over " 

"Thanks  a  lot." 

She  stood  watching  him  as  he  galloped  down 
the  block.  When  he  reached  his  own  corner,  he 
turned  and  waved. 

Caroline  moved  toward  the  house  in  a  trance. 


CHAPTER    XII 
GASOLINE  ATTENDS  A  BALL 

THE  first  two  years  in  Colorado  brought 
few  changes.  The  Ravenel  family  had 
comfortably  established  themselves  in 
the  community  and  made  several  close  friends. 
Caroline's  friendships  were  more  or  less  fleeting, 
owing  to  her  family's  very  decided  opinions,  al- 
though she  was  inclined,  once  she  had  given  her 
affection,  to  stand  by  it. 

This  was  true  in  regard  to  Kathleen.  A  rather 
disagreeable  affair,  or  it  might  have  been  dis- 
agreeable had  not  Mrs.  Ravenel's  dignity  pre- 
vented, arose  between  the  twro  families,  but  Caro- 
line declined  to  give  it  a  moment's  consideration. 

Mrs.  Briggs,  a  pompous,  uncultivated  woman, 
envying  the  smoothness  with  which  the  house 
next  door  to  her  own  was  operated,  offered  Judy 
two  dollars  a  week  more  than  Mrs.  Eavenel  was 
paying  for  her  services.  Judy  asked  for  an  ad- 
vance in  her  wages.  It  was  not  forthcoming,  so 
she  packed  her  things  in  high  dudgeon  and  took 
up  her  abode  next  door. 

"It's  these  here  Colorado  darkies  that's  makin* 


150      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

her  so  biggity,"  Maum  Kachel  declared.  "Judy'll 
be  beggin'  Miss  Em'bly  to  take  her  back  in  a 
month ;  she  cain't  live  with  them  no-count  white 
trash  —  not  after  her  bringin'  up !" 

But  for  once  Maumy  was  a  poor  prophet.  Judy 
remained,  growing  slacker  and  more  careless 
every  day.  Xow  and  then  she  came  over  for  a 
half-hour's  visit  with  Maum  Kachel,  only  to  be 
received  with  chilling  politeness. 

One  evening,  having  dined  at  the  Briggs  house 
with  Evelyn,  Kathleen's  elder  sister,  Alison 
brought  home  an  amusing  story. 

Mrs.  Briggs,  an  amateur  at  entertaining,  was 
giving  a  dinner  for  her  budding  daughter,  and 
wishing  to  impress  the  guests  with  her  service, 
suggested  to  Judy  that  she  "fix  up"  for  the 
occasion. 

Judy,  taking  advantage  of  her  opportunity, 
appeared  in  full  evening  dress,  her  bare  black 
shoulders  billowing  above  a  plumed  red  satin 
bodice. 

"I  gave  her  one  look,  Mother,"  Alison  said, 
"and  the  next  time  she  came  in  she  had  thrown 
a  light  shawl  over  her  shoulders,  tying  it  around 
her  waist  securely." 

Judy  had  not  been  replaced  in  the  household 
for  several  reasons,  and  her  work  was  divided 
among  the  family.  It  became  Alison's  duty  to 
take  care  of  the  upstairs  bedrooms;  Mayre  as- 


CAROLINE  AT  THE  BALL     151 

sisted,  while  Caroline  helped  Maumy  .in  the 
kitchen,  ran  errands,  dusted  the  drawing-room 
and  sometimes  relieved  Leigh  in  the  office. 

Leigh,  now  almost  twenty,  and  a  great  favorite 
with  Mrs.  RaveneFs  friends,  was  invited  out 
often,  but  she  seldom  found  time  to  accept  in- 
vitations :  the  supervision  of  the  household,  run- 
ning on  a  restricted  allowance,  the  mending,  the 
hundred  and  one  things  that  claim  the  attention 
of  a  home-maker,  devolved  upon  her.  Mrs.  Kav- 
enel,  as  the  years  went  on,  became  less  and  less 
a  help,  except  for  counsel,  which  was  always 
given  wisely. 

Sometimes,  as  Alison  would  scurry  through 
the  hall,  late  for  a  game  or  the  dansant,  she 
would  whisper  with  a  good-bye  kiss,  "I  wish  you 
were  going,  Leigh  dear ;  it's  such  fun !"  and  Leigh 
would  detain  her  for  a  moment,  smoothing  out 
her  blouse  or  putting  an  invisible  pin  in  the 
struggling  curls.  Sometimes  her  blue  eyes  were 
wistful;  always  they  were  proud. 

But  she  had  her  diversions ;  afternoons  on  the 
sunny  veranda  with  Blair  Newland,  who  brought 
the  latest  fiction  and  poetry,  the  newest  bi- 
ography to  read  aloud  and  discuss;  drives  with 
her  father,  sometimes  out  in  the  country  when 
the  wind  was  fresh  and  invigorating,  the  moun- 
tains blue  and  rugged. 

Friends,  dropping  in  for  a  cup  of  tea,  served 


152      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

with  Maumy's  muffins  or  hot  corn  bread,  little 
guessed  at  the  economies  that  were  practised  in 
the  household.  The  simple  elegance  went  on. 
Leigh's  watchful  eyes  and  clever  fingers  barred 
suspicion.  It  was  she  who  made  over  Alison's 
dresses  for  Mayre,  Caroline's  for  little  Hope,  she 
who  suggested  that  certain  things  be  dropped 
from  the  always  lavish  table;  that  desserts  be 
confined  to  Wednesdays  and  Sundays,  for  greater 
enjoyment. 

The  younger  children  had  no  idea  of  how 
scarce  money  was  in  the  household.  Alison  knew, 
and  Mayre  wondered,  but  questions  were  never 
asked.  Sometimes  Alison's  selfishness  would 
show  itself.  "I  simply  must  have  a  new  party 
dress,"  she  would  declare,  and  Leigh  would  sit 
up  a  little  later  planning,  get  up  a  little  earlier 
in  the  morning  to  sew.  "Alison  was  so  pretty. 
She  did  credit  to  her  clothes.  Youth  was  so  fleet- 
ing." So  she  argued. 

Doctor  Ravenel  gained  slowly  but  steadily. 
There  were  times  when  overwork  put  him  to  bed 
for  an  afternoon,  days  when  his  footsteps  lagged. 
Then  Leigh  took  the  helm  and  kept  back  the  line 
of  lame,  halt  and  blind  that  came  to  his  door  for 
relief. 

"Kathleen  says  that  Major's  practice  isn't  as 
fashionable  (Kathleen  had  really  said  'swell') 
as  Doctor  Arlington's  down  the  street,"  Caroline 


CAROLINE  AT  THE  BALL     153 

once  said  to  Leigh.  "Doctor  Arlington  doesn't 
take  poor  people." 

Leigh's  pride  flamed  for  an  instant.  She 
stooped  and  kissed  Caroline's  flushed  face. 

"Doctor  Arlington  isn't  to  be  spoken  of  in  the 
same  breath,  darling.  Doctor  Arlington  is  —  is 
merely  a  doctor.  Father  is  a  humanitarian." 
The  distinction  was  well  made.  Doctor  Ravenel's 
skill,  plus  sympathy  and  experience,  put  him  out- 
side the  role  of  ordinary  physician. 

Sometimes  Caroline  took  a  turn  at  keeping 
office.  She  had  a  welcome  smile  for  each  forlorn, 
weary  individual  who  passed  the  portal,  a  keen 
interest.  And  while  she  was  observing,  wonder- 
ing, commenting,  she  was  growing  in  sympathy 
and  understanding,  building  the  ramparts  of 
character. 

At  thirteen  she  had  changed  but  little,  except 
to  shoot  up  like  a  young  sapling  and  to  take  on 
that  self-assertive  manner  that  marks  adolesence. 

"Caroline  thinks  she  knows  it  all,"  Mayre  com- 
mented one  day  to  Leigh. 

"So  did  you  at  thirteen,  dear,"  Leigh  answered 
patiently. 

"But  you  can't  tell  her  anything " 

"You  can't  drive;  you  must  coax  her." 

"She  wears  her  hair  so  outrageously — with 
that  awful  band  across  her  forehead  and  those 
frowzy  puffs  — —  " 


154      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"That's  her  present  idea  of  style.  She's  ex- 
perimenting, expressing  herself.  Didn't  you?" 

"I  believe,  not  wishing  to  be  conceited,  that  I 
always  had  an  idea  of  what  was  in  taste.  It 
gives  me  the  fidgets  to  see  Caroline's  hair  and 
her  clothes — the  way  she  wears  them,"  Havre 
sighed  despairingly. 

"Caroline  is  like  a  clumsy  caterpillar  prepar- 
ing to  stretch  butterfly  wings.  Give  her  time," 
Leigh  begged.  "Let  her  put  some  of  her  queer 
notions  into  practice;  'she  will  light  after  while,' 
as  Maum  Rachel  says." 

A  few  days  after  this  conversation  Caroline 
gave  the  entire  family  a  decided  shock. 

"I  see  by  the  paper  that  the  bakers  are  going 
to  give  a  dance  this  evening,"  she  said  to  Alison 
who  was  deep  in  a  novel. 

"A  dance  —  the  bakers?    What  of  it?" 

"I  thought  maybe  I  would  go;  it's  public," 
Caroline  answered. 

Alison's  well-bred  laugh  for  once  escaped  the 
confines  of  the  room. 

"What's  the  joke?" 

"A  bakers'  dance !    Caroline !" 

The  novel  proved  too  entertaining  for  remon- 
strance. Alison  said  no  more. 

That  evening  (it  was  September)  when  the 
family  gathered  around  the  fire,  one  face  was 
missing.  "Where  is  Caroline?"  her  mother  asked. 


CAROLINE  AT  THE  BALL     155 

"I  saw  her  putting  on  her  best  dress  and  hat 
as  if  she  were  going  somewhere,"  Hope  said. 

Leigh  rose  from  her  chair ;  Mrs.  Ravenel  looked 
startled. 

"Surely  she  would  not  go  out  at  night  without 
telling  us,"  Mayre  ventured. 

Alison  paid  little  attention.  Suddenly  she  too 
rose  from  her  chair. 

"Leigh,"  she  said,  catching  hold  of  her  sister's 
arm  in  fright.  "You  don't  suppose  —  oh,  it 
couldn't  be  possible " 

"What?"  gasped  the  family  in  chorus. 

"That  she  would  go  to  that  —  that  public 
dance  the  bakers  are  giving." 

"My  dear  child,  explain  what  you  mean."  Mrs. 
Ravenel  cried,  her  face  blanching. 

"This  morning,  when  she  was  reading  the 
paper,  she  told  me  that  they  were  giving  a  dance 
—  the  bakers  —  and  that  she  believed  she  would 
go.  Of  course  I  thought  she  was  joking." 

"She  put  on  her  dancing  pumps,"  Hope  sup- 
plemented. 

"Where  was  this  dance  to  be  given?"  Doctor 
Ravenel  asked  a  little  anxiously. 

"She  didn't  say." 

"At  the  Coliseum  hall.  I  read  the  notice," 
Hope  contributed. 

Leigh  started  for  the  door.  Her  father  over- 
took her. 


156      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"I  shall  go  this  time,"  he  said  firmly. 

He  saw  Caroline  long  before  she  saw  him. 
She  was  standing  back  from  the  crowd,  looking 
on  with  eyes  a  little  frightened.  Now  and  then 
a  rude  couple  jostled  her,  and  she  shrank  back 
against  the  wall  to  let  them  pass.  Once  a  young 
man  approached  her,  but  she  shook  her  head  at 
his  invitation.  Another  came,  a  merry-faced  lad 
with  a  clean  countenance.  She  whirled  off  with 
him. 

Others  came.  She  picked  and  chose.  Her 
father,  concealed  by  the  crowd,  watched  in 
silence.  Finally  he  made  his  way  to  where  she 
was  resting. 

The  light  went  out  of  her  eyes  when  she  recog- 
nized him,  but  his  smile  was  reassuring 

"Come,  Caroline,"  he  said,  and  she  followed 
meekly. 

Outside  in  the  starlight,  he  questioned  her. 
Years  after,  she  remembered  that  leisurely  walk 
up  the  wide,  sandy  avenue,  her  hand  in  his  — 
the  gentle  admonition  —  the  patience  with  which 
he  explained  —  the  startling  truths*  he  laid  bare. 

"But  you  didn't  care  just  because  —  because 
they  were  common  people?"  she  asked  wist- 
fully, every  atom  of  her  democratic  nature  rous- 
ing to  the  word. 

She  never  forgot  his  answer. 

"No  one  is  common  until  he  has  proved  himself 


CAROLINE  AT  THE  BALL     157 

BO.  You  will  find  common  people  in  stations 
above  you,  as  well  as  below." 

After  that  night  he  seldom  worried  about  her 
freakish  fancies.  "Her  ideals  are  her  armor," 
he  said  to  her  mother.  "Yes,  even  at  thirteen. 
I  watched  her  choose." 

And  Mrs.  Ravenel  murmured. .  "Of  course, 
with  her  Kirtley  blood  and  Ravenel  inheritance, 
one  would  expect  that.  Still,  one  can  scarcely 
be  too  cautious." 

Another  event  took  place  during  that  Septem- 
ber, changing  the  home  life  considerably. 

A  few  blocks  away  lived  the  rector  of  the 
church  the  Ravenel  family  attended.  Barbara, 
his  only  daughter,  had  become  Alison's  best 
friend.  They  had  graduated  together  at  the  old 
high-school  in  June  and  spent  a  great  deal  of 
time  in  social  activities 

Alison  came  home  one  afternoon,  looking  very 
forlorn. 

"The  most  wonderful  thing  has  happened  to 
Barbara,"  she  remarked  to  the  family.  "That 
wealthy  Mr.  Donovan  who  sits  just  in  front  of 
us  in  church  is  going  to  send  her  abroad  to  study 
music.  ( Barbara  was  very  talented,  playing  the 
piano  skilfully.)  I  have  just  come  from  there 
and  they  are  all  so  excited.  Fancy!  I  wish  I 
had  a  talent  and  knew  a  Mr.  Donovan.  All  the 
girls  are  going  away  for  a  year,  at  least,  —  Mary 


158      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Stuart  to  New  York  and  Edith  Worthington  to 
Boston.  Haven't  you  any  friends  who  would 
adopt  me,  Mother?" 

Mrs.  Ravenel  thought  a  moment.  The  news 
had  touched  a  vulnerable  spot,  —  her  pride.  She 
remembered  her  own  girlhood  at  a  finishing 
school:  Miss  Sallie  Briarley's  at  Eichmond. 
Those  seminary  days  were  a  cherished  memory. 

"Your  father's  cousin,  Eliza  Mott  (Eliza  had 
been  one  of  the  Kavenels  in  Richmond)  has 
begged  me  to  let  her  have  one  of  my  girls  ever 
since  she  lost  dear  Beverly  two  years  ago."  Bev- 
erly was  an  only  son,  and  his  empty  place  in  the 
household  was  still  an  aching  void. 

"Oh,  Mother !"  Alison  clapped  her  hands  with 
delight.  "Write  to  her  please.  This  very  night. 
It  is  a  wonderful  opportunity." 

"I  will  talk  it  over  with  your  father,  darling." 

Ten  days  later  the  following  letter  stirred  the 
Eavenel  family  to  activity : 

"The  news  that  you  are  willing  to  lend  us  your 
precious  child  for  the  winter  fills  us  with  joy. 
We  shall  take  excellent  care  of  her  and  do  all  we 
can  for  her  happiness  and  welfare.  Suggest  that 
you  get  her  off  as  soon  as  possible.  Briarley 
Seminary  opens  the  fifteenth.  Fearing  that  at 
the  last  moment  you  may,  dear  cousin  Emily, 
change  your  mind,  we  are  sending  you  her  tickets, 
Pullman,  etc." 


CAROLINE  AT  THE  BALL     159 

"Bless  the  Lord  for  rich  relatives!"  Alison 
cried,  dancing  around  the  room  in  glee.  "As 
Maumy  says :  'If  y'  ain't  got  a  kerriage  yourself, 
hit's  mighty  fine  to  have  kerriage  friends !'  " 

"We  have  a  carriage,"  Caroline  defended,  her 
pride  flaming. 

The  following  week  was  one  never  to  be  for- 
gotten in  the  household.  Leigh  and  her  mother 
schemed  and  maneuvered  about  clothes,  for  Ali- 
son could  not  go  South  without  suitable  and  be- 
coming frocks. 

Attic  trunks  and  boxes  were  rifled,  old  ma- 
terials ripped  and  sponged. 

"It  is  almost  as  good  as  getting  ready  for  a 
wedding,"  Mayre  thought,  designing  the  pretty 
gowns.  She  was  quite  as  interested  as  if  she 
herself  were  to  have  the  wonderful  trip. 

"It  will  be  your  turn  next,"  Alison  reminded, 
kissing  her  as  she  sat  with  her  pencils  and 
sketches,  "only  of  course  you  will  go  to  London 
or  Paris." 

"On  what,  please?    It  takes  money  to  travel." 

"Perhaps  Great-aunt  will  have  mounted  the 
golden  stairs  by " 

"Alison!" 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mother.  I  was  only  jok- 
ing, of  course." 

"Great-aunt  may  have  already  mounted " 

"Caroline!" 


160      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"Yes,  Mother." 

"Do  not  be  unseemly,  my  child.  It  is  a  viola- 
tion of  taste  to  joke  about  the  demise  of  one's 
friends." 

"But  she's  only  a  relation,  and  we  don't  even 
know  her,  she's  just  a " 

"Myth,  honey,"  Alison  finished  for  her. 

Up  in  the  attic  sewing  room,  machines  burred 
and  whizzed  again ;  rich  old  silks  were  combined 
with  soft  cashmeres  and  grenadines,  voile  toned 
with  gorgeous  plaids.  From  a  quaint  gray  ben- 
galine  a  stunning  evening  frock  was  evolved; 
touched  with  a  collar  of  real  lace,  it  looked  fit 
for  a  princess,  Caroline  declared. 

Every  one  was  interested,  every  one  happy. 
Sometimes  Doctor  Ravenel  climbed  the  attic 
stairs  and  paused  for  a  moment  to  look  at  the 
pretty  things  heaped  on  the  sewing  table,  and 
Maumy  Rachel  left  her  dishes  to  see  how  the 
gowrns  were  progressing. 

"Why  don't  y'all  trim  th's  y'r  coat  with  some 
'oyster'  plumes,"  she  said,  eyeing  the  ostrich 
feathers  that  Mayre  had  pulled  from  a  chest. 
"They's  wearin'  'em  a  heap.  I  saw  a  cullod 
woman  at  the  Baptis'  church  last  Sunday  plum 
done  up  in  'em.  Beats  all  how  the  folks  out  here 
gets  the  cash  to  dress." 

She  brought  up  three  linen  handkerchiefs,  her 
own  Christmas  gifts. 


CAROLINE  AT  THE  BALL     161 

"Them's  real  linen,"  she  said,  wetting  her 
finger  and  applying  it  to  one.  She  held  it  to  the 
light  and  peered  through  it.  "Y'all  can  tell  by 
testin'  it.  You  take  'em,  Miss  Alison.  They'll 
be  nice  with  yer  silk  dresses  for  parties." 

"Oh,  Maumy  dear,  I  can't  take  your  pretty 
things!" 

"Go  long,  now,  you  insults  me  ef  you  don't. 
I  ain't  got  nothin'  else  to  give." 

Alison  reluctantly  laid  them  away  in  the 
scented  case  that  Leigh  had  lost  sleep  to  em- 
broider. 

The  dresses  were  finished  at  last  and  packed 
in  the  big  leather  trunk  in  which  Emily  Kavenel 
had  carried  her  clothes  away  to  school :  a  pretty 
silk  for  afternoon  wear,  a  blue  and  brown  plaid 
to  alternate;  several  blouses,  embellished  with 
Leigh's  handwork;  a  neat  evening  coat  with 
"oyster"  plumes;  and  the  gray  bengaline 

Evelyn  Briggs  would  have  thought  the  things 
quite  inadequate  for  Miss  Mallcott's  fashionable 
school  on  the  Hudson,  where  she  was  going,  and 
Edith  Worthington  had  twice  the  number,  but 
Alison  was  quite  content.  She  helped  Leigh 
stuff  the  sleeves  with  white  tissue  paper  and 
folded  the  skirts  with  care. 

"You  must  let  us  know  just  when  you  wear 
each  one,"  Mayre  said,  "and  if  Cousin  Eliza  likes 
them.  Of  course,  her  things  will  be  much  more 


162      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

elegant,  but  elegant  things  belong  to  middle  age, 
not  youth.  I  should  keep  everything  simple  and 
refined  if  I  had  a  million." 

Alison's  promises  were  legion. 

Came  the  day  of  departure.  Leigh  rose  early, 
wearing  her  gayest  smile,  for  she  knew  that  her 
mother  was  dreading  the  first  break  in  the  family 
circle.  Mayre  moved  about  in  a  dream,  picking 
up  things  likely  to  be  forgotten.  Caroline  was 
too  excited  to  finish  her  breakfast,  and  Hope 
clung  to  Alison's  hand  all  morning. 

The  train  left  at  noon.  At  eleven,  Jimmy  Lud- 
low  appeared  with  a  box  of  candy  and  a  bunch 
of  pink  roses  which  Alison  blushingly  accepted. 

"Mother  sent  Perkins  over  with  the  car,"  he 
said,  "thought  perhaps  you  would  all  like  to  go 
to  the  station." 

"How  perfectly  dear  of  her,"  Caroline  re- 
marked, running  to  the  window  to  look  at  the 
handsome  motor.  "Would  it  hold  us  all?" 

"Seven,  and  then  some.  I  thought  —  maybe  — 
Alison  and  I  could  run  down  in  the  dogcart." 

"So  you  can  say  good-bye,  I  suppose,"  Caroline 
laughed,  to  Alison's  mortification. 

A  crowd  of  young  people  had  gathered  at  the 
depot,  bringing  gifts  of  flowers  and  fruit,  so  that 
when  Alison  entered  her  section  of  the  Pullman 
she  found  one  seat  too  small  for  her  numerous 
belongings ;  but  Barbara  Aurendell,  who  was  tak- 


CAROLINE  AT  THE  BALL     163 

ing  the  same  train  as  far  as  Chicago,  offered  to 
share  the  stateroom  which  Mr.  Donovan  had 
provided. 

"It's  too  bad  you  didn't  take  Dickey  —  you 
need  a  canary  —  and  you  haven't  a  bandbox, 
either,"  was  Mayre's  laughing  comment.  "Well, 
the  best  of  luck ;  kiss  me  dear,  Mother  and  Father 
are  waiting." 

Alison  leaned  over  the  rail,  and  the  family  pro- 
cession moved  up.  "Kiss  me  twice  —  three 
times,"  Hope  wailed. 

Alison  waved  a  trembling  hand,  turning  to 
hide  smarting  tears.  The  next  minute  the  long 
train  was  moving  up  the  track,  the  engine  steam- 
ing and  puffing. 

Jimmy  Ludlow  stared  after  it,  lost  in  thought. 
A  voice  at  his  elbow  brought  him  back. 

"I  —  I  would  just  as  soon  ride  home  with  you 
in  the  cart  as  to  go  with  Perkins,"  Caroline  said 
softly.  "I  —  I  feel  bad  —  too.  But  you'll  see  her 
again  this  winter,  you  know  —  when  you  go  back 
to  college." 

Jimmy  tucked  her  willing  hand  through  his 
arm. 

"How  about  a  trot  over  the  mesa  this  after- 
noon?" he  asked. 

Caroline's  face  was  radiant  as  she  answered : 

"I'd  love  it  —  love  it  better  than  anything  in 
the  whole  world." 


CHAPTER  XIII 
MADAME  WAKEFIELD 

IT  was  a  few  weeks  after  Alison's  departure 
that  Caroline,  busy  writing  in  her  tower 
room,  saw  something  happening  across  the 
street  that,  for  a  moment,  took  away  her  breath. 
The  Lodge  was  being  opened ! 
She  jumped  up  from  her  desk  and  ran  to  the 
window  for  a  better  view.    Yes,  there  was  Timms, 
the  crusty  old  caretaker,  flinging  open  shutters, 
raising  blinds  and  giving  directions  to  people  in- 
side.   In  the  yard  men  were  shaking  rugs,  whisk- 
ing the  dust  from  furniture,  opening  packing 


The  view  was  too  exciting  to  witness  alone. 
She  flew  down  the  stairs  and  over  to  the  Briggs 
house  next  door.  Kathleen  was  just  coming  out 
on  the  veranda. 

"Did  you  see?"  Caroline  began,  but  Kathleen 
interrupted : 

"I  was  just  coming  over  to  tell  you.  Do  you 
suppose  the  man  who  lost  his  wife  is  coming 
back?  Maybe  he's  married  again.  Let's  walk 
slowly  past  the  house  and  have  a  look." 


MADAME  WAKEFIELD        165 

Arm  in  arm  they  sauntered  across  the  street. 
Through  the  open  windows  they  could  see  men 
taking  the  covers  off  of  furniture,  polishing 
floors,  unpacking  dishes.  A  middle-aged  woman, 
evidently  a  housekeeper,  stood  in  the  front  hall 
giving  instructions  in  English  strongly  tinged 
with  cockney. 

"Hopen  the  box  'ere,"  she  commanded,  shaking 
her  finger  at  a  workman.  "Don't  drag  it, 
scratchin'  hup  the  floors;  'ave  a  care!  The 
Madame's  as  particular  about  other  people's 
things  has  hif  they  were  her  own.  Mind  the 
door!" 

"The  Madame!"  Caroline  said  in  a  stage 
whisper,  and  Kathleen  echoed,  "Madame." 

For  a  moment  they  stood  gazing  into  each 
other's  eyes. 

"He  must  have  married." 

"He  must!" 

"How  exciting.  How  many  years  since — since 
she  died,  Kathleen?" 

Kathleen  counted.  "Four,"  she  decided. 
"Four  last  spring." 

"A  decent  time  to  wait,  wrasn't  it?  Do  you 
suppose  this  one  is  pretty  —  and  ill?" 

"But  she  said  —  other  people's  things " 

"So  she  did!  He  must  have  rented  the  house 
furnished." 

Caroline's  face  fell.     She  loved  a  romance. 


166      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"Oh,  dear,  I  just  wager  it's  some  frumpy  old 
woman  with  a  lot  of  cats  and  things.  I  did  hope 
it  was  the  Englishman.  He  sounded  interest- 
ing." 

The  next  day  Caroline's  fears  were  realized. 
It  was  an  old  woman,  but  not  a  frumpy  one,  and 
the  cats  were  dogs. 

She  and  Kathleen  were  strolling  past  the 
house  after  school.  It  had  an  atmosphere  of  liv- 
ing about  it.  Smoke  issued  from  three  of  the 
great  chimneys,  and  again  Timms  was  busy  in 
the  yard. 

"I  do  wish  we  could  see  the  lady  of  the  house," 
Kathleen  sighed. 

"Anybody  would  think  you  were  a  book 
agent,"  Caroline  laughed. 

She  was  still  laughing  when  the  French  door 
opened  on  the  side  veranda  and  out  stepped  a 
short,  stout,  roly-poly  old  lady  with  a  poodle 
dog  in  her  arms. 

Spying  the  girls,  the  dog  squirmed  in  her 
arms  and  bounded  away,  giving  three  peevish 
staccato  barks  as  he  ran  towards  them. 

His  remarkable  attire  made  the  girls  laugh 
still  harder.  His  slender,  shaven  little  body  was 
encased  in  a  delicate  pink  silk  sweater.  His 
legs  had  been  thrust  through  the  sleeves.  He 
frisked  about,  his  queer,  splayed  feet  pattering 
softly. 


MADAME  WAIvEFIELD        167 

After  him,  supported  by  a  stout  walking  stick, 
came  his  mistress. 

"Ivan,"  she  called,  "Ivan  Romanoff!"  Come 
back,  dear;  the  grass  is  wet." 

But  Romanoff,  his  head  in  the  air,  continued 
his  sharp,  naughty  barks. 

His  mistress  coaxed,  whistled,  an  amusing 
breathy  whistle  that  lacked  persuasion. 

Down  the  steps  she  hobbled;  she  seemed  to 
have  a  good  deal  of  difficulty  in  walking.  Caro- 
line thought  she  was  too  stout  to  be  comfortable. 

"Ivan,  darling,  do  you  hear  me?  The  grass 
is  wet,  and  you  are  not  accustomed  to  this 
climate." 

The  voice  was  deep,  cello-like  in  sweetness. 

Madame  Wakefield  (Caroline  afterward 
learned  her  name)  came  toward  the  fence,  lean- 
ing heavily  on  her  cane. 

"Couldn't  I  get  him  for  you?"  Caroline  offered, 
seeing  how  the  old  lady  panted  for  breath.  "I 
reckon  maybe  you  aren't  used  to  this  altitude. 
It  always  makes  you  breathe  fast  like  that." 

There  was  an  amused  smile,  full  of  humor, 
and  then : 

"Oh,  dear,  no,  thank  you!  Ivan  is  very  un- 
gracious to  strangers.  Aren't  you,  dear?"  She 
had  the  dog  in  her  arms  again. 

Caroline  felt  a  little  snubbed,  but  she  an- 
swrered : 


168      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"He's  very  cunning  —  and  smart  looking.  Is 
« — is  he  a  French  poodle?" 

"Dear  no,  child;  he's  Russian.  Aren't  you, 
Ivan?  You  see,  he's  black  —  and  very  leggy  — 
and  his  eyes  are  red  —  dark  red " 

Her  tones  were  as  staccato  as  Ivan's  yelps. 
She  spoke  in  short  sentences,  between  asthmatic 
gasps. 

"He  looks  as  if  he  might  be  first  cousin  to  a 
spaniel,"  Caroline  remarked. 

It  was  an  intelligent  comparison,  attracting 
the  keen-eyed  old  lady.  She  glanced  from  Ivan's 
frowzled  head  to  Caroline. 

"Same  family,"  she  said,  her  smile  spreading 
into  her  ruddy,  apple  cheeks,  English  cheeks, 
hard  and  weather-beaten. 

That  night  at  the  dinner  table  Caroline  gave  a 
very  good  description  of  the  new  neighbor. 

"She  looks  as  if  she  might  be  somewhere 
around  seventy,  perhaps  a  little  more,  though 
she's  terribly  spry  —  except  for  one  side  which 
seems  to  be  a  little  stiff  —  rheumatism,  I  reckon. 
Her  eyes  are  round  and  blue,  as  blue  as  yours, 
'Mother,  merry  eyes  that  laugh  —  not  at  you  — 
but  with  you.  They  twinkle  all  the  time.  She's 
disgracefully  stout,  and  she  has  asthma.  I 
reckon  if  she  comes  to  you,  Major,  you  had  better 
diet  her " 


MADAME  WAKEFIELD        169 

Doctor  Ravenel  bowed  gravely,  his  lips  twitch- 
ing in  a  smile. 

"Thank  you  for  the  suggestion,  Caroline." 

"Her  voice,"  Caroline  went  on,  "is  wonderful; 
honey  and  cream,  and  her  accent  —  oh,  it's  lovely. 
English !  Every  word,  even  the  commonest  ones 
were  beautiful." 

Except  from  the  tower  room,  Caroline  saw 
little  of  Madame  Wakefield  during  the  next 
few  weeks.  Occasionally  she  glanced  across  to 
find  her  having  tea  under  a  tree  in  the  garden 
(one  had  to  be  up  high  to  see  the  garden,  for 
it  was  surrounded  by  a  brick  wall  to  insure 
privacy,  the  front  alone  being  open)  with  Ivan 
on  a  chair  beside  her;  sometimes  his  sweater 
was  blue,  again  white,  but  he  always  wore  one, 
regardless  of  weather. 

Since  Alison's  departure,  Caroline  had  found 
little  time  to  stroll  around  the  block  with  Kath- 
leen, for  there  was  always  work  to  be  done,  or 
the  office  to  be  tended. 

Alison  wrote  frequently:  glowing  letters  of 
Cousin  Eliza,  Uncle  Finley,  and  the  Seminary, 
which  was  a  little  dull  after  high-school,  but 
none  the  less  interesting.  She  missed  the  family 
very  much  and  thought  of  them  night  and  day, 
especially  little  Hope.  There  had  always  been 
a  tender  bond  between  Alison  and  Hope. 

It  was  soon  after  Alison's  departure  that  Hope 


170      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

began  to  droop,  though  Alison's  going  had  little 
to  do  with  it.  She  had  always  been  frail.  Her 
eyes  grew  large  and  wistful,  her  smile  wan. 
Doctor  Ravenel  watched  her  closely. 

Sometimes  she  would  wander  into  Alison's 
room  to  caress  her  things:  a  discarded  frock 
still  hanging  in  the  closet,  an  old  workbasket 
which  held  her  first  thimble,  a  favorite  book. 

Leigh  one  day  found  her  with  Alison's  picture 
in  her  lap  —  an  exquisite  likeness  in  a  round 
silver  frame  —  her  hungry  eyes  devouring  it. 

"Isn't  she  beautiful,  Sister?"  she  asked,  hold- 
ing the  photograph  out  for  inspection. 

"Lovely,  darling." 

"Do  you  think  we  will  ever  see  her  again?" 

"Why,  of  course,  Hope;  why  do  you  ask  that?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Sometimes  I  think  I 
won't."  She  sighed  deeply. 

"I  am  a  little  anxious  about  Hopie,"  Leigh 
said  that  evening  to  her  father;  she  thought  his 
face  sobered. 

"We  must  keep  her  out  of  doors  more,"  he 
answered.  "I  wish  I  could  afford  to  buy  her  a 
pony." 

It  was  a  week  later  that  Caroline  came  home 
from  school  to  find  her  small  sister  in  the  guest- 
room bed  with  Maumy  Rachel  in  close  attend- 
ance. 

"Keep  out'n  here!"   Maumy  said,  waving  a 


MADAME  WAKEFIELD        171 

hand  toward  the  door.  "Yer  Paw  don't  want 
you  round  catching  things  till  he  knows  what 
little  missy's  got." 

That  night  Hope's  fever  rose ;  by  morning  she 
was  very  ill. 

The  days  following  were  anxious  ones  for  all 
the  family.  Mountain  fever  is  not  contagious 
and  not  always  dangerous,  but  Hope  grew  alarm- 
ingly worse.  Mrs.  Ravenel  took  up  her  abode 
in  the  sick  chamber,  though  her  husband  had 
insisted  upon  a  trained  nurse.  Leigh  went  about 
the  house  white  and  restless,  trying  to  comfort 
heart-broken  old  Maumy,  run  the  house  and  at- 
tend to  the  office,  for  Doctor  Ravenel  kept  close 
watch  over  the  little  patient  on  the  third  floor. 

And,  strangely  enough,  it  was  Caroline  who 
became  the  mainstay  of  the  family,  taking 
Leigh's  place  in  the  household,  for  Leigh  had  to 
be  here,  there  and  everywhere.  Caroline  ran 
errands,  carried  ice  and  hot  water  to  the  room 
above,  washed  Maumy's  neglected  dishes,  dusted 
the  rooms  and  whispered  words  of  encourage- 
ment in  her  mother's  ear. 

"I  declare,  Caroline  seems  to  have  grown  up 
over  night,"  Mayre  said  to  her  father.  "She  has 
such  good  common  sense.  I  don't  seem  to  know, 
what  to  do  to  be  helpful." 

Mrs.  Ravenel  too  had  proved  herself.  Her 
tender  mother  love  flamed  to  passion.  She 


172      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

could  not  be  induced  to  leave  Hope's  side,  even 
for  necessary  rest  or  air.  Her  indolence  van- 
ished. She  was  wise  and  helpful,  courageous  in 
the  face  of  danger.  Leigh  begged  to  relieve  her. 

"My  place  is  here,  darling;  do  not  insist  upon 
my  leaving  Hope.  When  she  is  better,  I  will 
rest." 

And  so  the  days  moved  on,  slowly,  intolerably. 
One  day  there  was  hope;  the  next  was  filled  with 
despair. 

Sometimes  Caroline  would  steal  into  the  big 
square  chamber  and  stand  quietly  at  the  foot  of 
the  bed,  watching  Hope's  hot,  restless  head  toss- 
ing on  the  pillow.  But  she  did  not  cry  as  Mayre 
did,  or  wring  her  hands.  She  was  calm  under 
her  burden;  the  energy  and  determination  of 
other  days  had  swerved  to  definite  purpose. 

But  late  one  afternoon,  when  she  asked  her 
father  if  there  were  hope  for  her  sister's  recov- 
ery, he  had  put  his  head  in  his  hands.  He  could 
not  answe 

She  tiptoed  away  silently  and  went  out  to 
Maumy  Kachel's  kitchen.  The  old  servant  was 
not  there.  Caroline  found  her  in  her  room,  a 
comfortable  place  in  the  basement.  Maumy 
Rachel  was  sitting  in  her  favorite  chair,  an  old 
hickory  rocker  that  had  come  along  with  her 
from  Virginia. 

Caroline  glanced  about;  on  the  bed  flamed 


MADAME  WAKEFIELD        173 

the  red  and  green  sunrise  quilt  that  Kufus's 
wife  had  brought  as  a  parting  gift;  above  it 
hung  the  pictures  of  Maumy's  family :  Khodalia 
and  Maria,  Dorwin  and  his  wife  Mandy,  to- 
gether with  their  three  small  pickaninnies.  On 
the  old  marble-topped  table  Maumy's  Bible  lay 
open;  some  one  had  been  reading  to  her  from 
it,  Leigh,  probably. 

"Maumy,"  Caroline  whispered,  for  the  old 
woman  was  lost  in  thought.  "Maumy  —  is  Hope 
going  to  die?" 

Maumy  stretched  out  her  arms  and  Caroline 
sank  down  in  them,  turning  her  face  to  the 
bosom  that  had  never  failed  of  comfort. 

"Lammie,"  Maumy  crooned,  "lammie." 

When  the  sobs  had  quieted,  she  went  on: 

"It  am  jes'  like  this,  honey.  Sometimes  the 
good  Gord  He  look  down  on  this  yere  earth  and 
He  sees  a  lubly  blossom  that  He  wants  up  there 
on  high  to  plant  in  His  big,  heabenly  garden. 
(There  was  a  choking  pause.)  An'  He  reach 
down,  lammie,  way  down  here  —  and  He  picks 
dat  flower  —  picks  it,  lammie,  fer  Hisself  up 
there." 

"No,  no,  Maumy!  Not  Hope  —  not  my  little 
sister." 

"The  good  Gord  can't  stop  to  think  who's 
sister  it  is,  honey.  He  know  best  —  He  know 
best." 


174      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

There  was  a  silence  broken  only  by  sobs,  and 
then: 

"Maumy  —  I  am  so  sorry  I  teased  her  —  you 
remember  —  at  home  —  how  I  used  to  frighten 
her." 

"Don't  you  think  about  dat,  honey.  Dat  war 
just  natural  debilment  —  it  had  to  break  out, 
lak  the  measles  er  de  chicken  pox.  It  war  in 
de  system.  An'  old  Maumy's  boun'  to  say  dat 
debilish  as  y'war,  youse  been  a  help  to  every- 
body in  dis  hour  a  mis'ry  —  yes'm  —  Maumy  got 
to  say  dat." 

Caroline  slipped  away  quietly.  At  the  kitchen 
door  she  stopped  and  looked  across  the  avenue. 
Twilight  had  fallen. 

Something  in  the  great  brooding  silence 
quieted  her.  She  slipped  across  the  vacant  lots 
and  took  the  narrow  path  that  led  to  the  hills. 

As  she  walked,  she  wondered  if  other  places 
were  half  so  beautiful  as  Colorado  at  hush  time. 
She  always  thought  of  those  few  moments  just 
preceding  dusk  as  "hush  time."  The  mountains 
seemed  to  feel  it,  the  flowers  and  trees.  Every- 
thing stopped;  even  the  quivering  aspens  along 
the  creek  bed.  Nature  was  making  its  obeisance. 

It  was  an  ominous,  portentious  calm  —  a  gentle 
stillness.  Etched  against  the  gray-blue  sky,  the 
mountains  flushed  with  the  sun's  last  glow. 

And  then,  out  of  the  heart  of  the  old  peak,  a 


MADAME  WAKEFIELD        175 

breeze  moved,  stirred  the  stubble  grass,  the 
aspens  shook ;  a  bird  fluttered  to  its  nest,  calling 
to  it's  mate. 

She  wondered  if  death  were  not  like  that;  a 
pause  —  then  a  beginning  —  somewhere  else, 
perhaps,  as  Maumy  said,  up  in  His  garden. 

It  was  quite  dark  when  she  came  back.  There 
seemed  to  be  a  fluttering  in  the  house;  behind 
closed  blinds  shadows  moved  swiftly.  Up  in 
the  guest  room  lights  flared.  She  heard  a  low, 
heart-rending  cry. 

It  had  come,  she  knew,  —  hush  time  for  little 
Hope! 

She  entered  the  house  as  she  had  left  it.  The 
kitchen  was  empty.  Wonderingly  she  climbed 
the  back  stairs,  feeling  her  way  through  the  dark 
hall  to  her  mother's  room. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THREE  YEARS  LATER 

THREE  years  had  passed  since  that  memo- 
rable day  when  little  Hope  left  her 
beloved  family :  three  rather  uneventful 
years. 

Alison's  stay  of  a  year  had  lengthened  into 
three,  a  part  of  the  time  having  been  spent 
abroad.  Cousin  Eliza  had  proved  a  warm  friend, 
making  it  so  delightful  for  her  young  protege 
that  she  was  content  to  remain  indefinitely. 

In  Paris  Alison  had  met  Barbara  Aurendel, 
and  together,  under  Cousin  Eliza's  chaperonage, 
they  had  made  a  tour  of  France  and  Italy.  It  had 
been  a  wonderful  excursion,  and  the  home  let- 
ters were  full  of  entrancing  experiences. 

"In  England,"  Alison  wrote,  "I  kept  an  eye 
out  for  Great-aunt  Caroline,  but  not  knowing 
her  name  I  was  at  a  disadvantage.  Every  time 
I  saw  a  'personage,'  with  a  pearl  necklace  or 
flashing  tiara,  I  imagined  it  might  be  she,  but 
of  course,  without  proof,  I  could  not  snatch  my 
precious  heirlooms." 


THREE  YEARS  LATER        177 

Between  the  lines  the  family  caught  glimpses 
of  other  happenings. 

"I  wish,"  she  wrote,  "that  you  could  know 
Tevis  McElroy.  (Cousin  Eliza  says  Mother  will 
remember  the  McElroys,  relatives  of  the  St. 
Ivans  Mayres  —  wonderful  family)  who  came 
over  on  the  boat  with  us.  He  has  been  very 
attentive.  I  am  interested.  The  McElroys  have 
a  beautiful  estate  just  at  the  edge  of  the  city, 
marvelous  old  place  with  oaks  a  hundred  years 
old,  gardens,  drives,  charmingly  laid  out.  Mayre 
would  rave.  Tevis  and  his  sister  Alice  are  the 
only  children,  heirs  to  the  McElroy  millions." 

And  a  few  months  later  Cousin  Eliza  wrote 
Mrs.  Ravenel: 

"I  realize  that  I  am  treading  on  very  sacred 
ground,  dear  cousin  Emily,  when  I  write  to 
plead  the  cause  of  Tevis  McElroy,  the  son  of 
my  girlhood  friend,  Nancy  Fairchild.  I  have 
known  Tevis  from  babyhood  —  knitted  his  first 
socks  —  in  fact,  to  go  farther  back,  planned  his 
layette.  I  know  him  to  be,  in  spite  of  his  wealth, 
which  in  this  age  is  so  often  a  handicap  as  far 
as  character  is  concerned,  a  clean,  upright  young 
man,  clever  and  purposeful.  Alison  has  no 
doubt  told  you  that  he  is  beginning  the  practice 
of  law,  and  as  for  his  family  —  well,  I  can  only 
say  that  I  consider  him  quite  the  equal  of  a  Rave- 
nel or  Kirtley.  He  is  to-day  writing  you  and 


178      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

the  doctor  for  darling  Alison's  hand  in  mar- 
riage. I  trust  you  will  regard  the  child's  affec- 
tion for  him  ( I  am  convinced  that  this  is  a  great 
love)  and  consent  to  an  early  wedding." 

"But  what  about  Jimmy!"  Caroline  blazed 
when  the  astounding  news  was  discussed  in  the 
family.  "Alison  is  perfectly  horrid  to  fling  him 
aside  just  because  she  has  a  chance  at  a  mil- 
lionaire! But  it  is  just  like  her." 

"We  do  not  know  that  Jimmy  has  ever  really 
proposed  to  her,"  Mayre  defended,  awed  with 
the  grandeur  confronting  her  sister 

"Proposed!"  Caroline  snapped.  "Proposed! 
His  eyes  proposed  every  time  they  glanced 
at  her.  They  —  they  ate  her  up.  She  knew. 
And  what  do  you  suppose  he  was  taking  me 
horseback  riding  for  —  tagging  me  around  and 
bringing  me  candy?  I  knew.  He  thought  I 
would  tell  her  how  nice  he  was.  And  he  is  a 
heap  nicer  than  this  —  this  interloper."  High- 
school  had  much  improved  Caroline's  vocabu- 
lary. 

And  it  was  Caroline  who,  a  few  days  later, 
when  the  parental  blessing  had  been  forwarded 
by  letter,  (Doctor  Kavenel  had  begged  for  time 
to  consider  the  matter,  but  for  once  his  wife 
overruled)  broke  the  news  to  Jimmy. 

It  was  a  September  afternoon,  cool  and  golden 
after  the  usual  thunder  shower  that  swept  the 


THREE  YEARS  LATER    179 

valley.  Caroline  loved  those  storms:  the  .wild 
rumblings  that  resounded  from  dome  to  dome 
of  the  rocky  peaks,  the  lightning  that  sprang 
out  of  the  clouds,  snapping  through  the  black- 
ness. She  could  never  get  over  the  feeling  that 
the  elements  were  at  war.  And  she  loved  the 
peace  that  came  after  —  the  sweet  moist  smell  of 
the  earth  —  the  dripping  leaves  —  the  garden 
perfumes  —  the  cool  sandy  walks  —  ditch  boxes 
singing  and  overflowing. 

"Would  you  like  to  go  for  a  tramp  over  the 
mesa?"  she  telephoned  to  Jimmy.  "I  have  some- 
thing to  —  to  tell  you " 

"Wouldn't  you  rather  ride?"  came  the  thought- 
ful invitation. 

"I  think  not.  Could  we  start  now  —  at  once?" 

They  were  well  on  the  way  when  she  looked 
up.  Jimmy's  eyes  met  hers. 

At  sixteen  Caroline  had  lost  her  childish 
awkwardness,  emerging  into  promising  young 
womanhood.  Colorado  had  toned  her  up,  added 
to  her  stature;  she  had  outdistanced  Mayre  in 
height.  Her  eyes  were  no  longer  too  large  for  her 
face;  her  cheeks  revealed  unsuspected  dimples 
when  she  smiled.  Jimmy's  prophesy  of  "looks" 
had  been  fulfilled.  Some  thought  her  handsomer 
than  Alison.  Kindness  shone  from  her  eyes;  de- 
termination sat  upon  her  well-defined,  but  unob- 
trusive chin ;  her  shapely  mouth  was  tender  and 


180      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

sincere.  She  was  no  longer  rude  and  hoydenish, 
though  there  was  still  a  delightful  uncertainty 
about  her  moods  and  actions.  She  was  still 
venturesome,  inquiring,  romantic;  still  enthusi- 
astic. 

"I  have  something  to  tell  you,  Jimmy." 

"Fire!"  said  the  handsome  college  youth 
keeping  step  beside  her. 

"I  am  going  to  —  quickly  —  and  have  it  over. 
Alison's  engaged.  To  a  Southerner  ten  years 
older  than  herself.  Tevis  McElroy  of  Rich- 
mond." 

She  had  turned  her  eyes  from  his ;  she  could  not 
bear  to  see  the  pain  creep  into  them. 

But  Jimmy's  voice,  strong  and  vibrant,  gave 
her  courage.  She  met  his  smile  wonderingly. 

"So  it's  really  on,  is  it,  regular  thing,  engage- 
ment? Bully  for  Alison.  She  wrote  me  she  was 
awaiting  the  family's  decision." 

Caroline  gasped. 

"And  you  don't  mind  —  any  more  than  that? 
I  thought  — I " 

"Mind?  I  am  delighted!  Alison's  a  peach, 

and  as  to  age "  he  looked  down  at  the  rosy 

face  beside  him  questioningly.  "You  don't  think 
ten  years  matters,  do  you,  if  people  really 

care "  his  voice  dropped  as  if  the  word  were 

sacred.  "Of  course  —  I  think  seven  would  be 
better  —  perhaps " 


'You  will  come?"  he  asked.     Page  181. 


THREE  YEARS  LATER   181 

"You  really  don't  care  for  Alison?  Like 
that?" 

Jimmy's  charming  smile  widened. 

"I  care  a  heap,  Caroline.  So  much  so  that  I 
want  to  see  her  happy.  But  —  like  that  —  no  — 
I  should  prefer  her  as  —  as  a  sister " 

He  stopped  suddenly 

"Finish,"  she  commanded. 

"Not  to-day." 

"Why?" 

"Because " 

He  wheeled  suddenly  and  looked  deep  into 
the  topaz  eyes. 

"I'll  make  a  date  with  you,  Caroline.  I  will 
meet  you  here  two  years  from  this  afternoon  — 
at  —  what  time  is  it  —  four  o'clock.  At  four 
o'clock  —  precisely  —  if  I  am  living,  and  finish 
that  sentence.  It  wouldn't  be  quite  fair  to  do 
it  now  —  perhaps  even  then  I  may  postpone  it." 

Caroline  started  to  speak,  but  hesitated;  a 
flush  spread  from  her  creamy  neck  to  the  roots 
of  her  brown  hair. 

"You  will  come?"  he  asked. 

They  had  stopped  for  a  moment;  he  lingered, 
waiting  for  her  promise. 

"Yes  —  if  I  am  here,  I  will  come." 

He  took  a  notebook  from  his  pocket,  and  rip- 
ping out  a  leaf,  wrote  a  date  upon  it.  Caroline 
laughed  as  she  read  it. 


182      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"Now  let's  go  home  and  have  some  of  Maumy's 
muffins,"  she  said  quickly.  "I  heard  her  say  as 
I  came  out  she  was  going  to  make  them  to- 
night. Perhaps  your  mother  will  come  over  for 
tea." 

"I  think  she  would  be  charmed.  Maumy's 
muffins  would  tempt  Jove " 

"To  say  nothing  of  our  society  —  Mother's  and 
Leigh's  and " 

"Caroline's." 

"Thank  you." 

"It  will  be  my  last  tea  with  you,  too ;  I  leave 
to-morrow." 

Caroline's  heart  fluttered  but  she  said  quietly : 

"How  nice.  It  must  be  wonderful  going  to 
college.  I  hope  I  may  some  day.  But  I  shall 
go  West  —  out  through  that  old  gateway  over 
there."  She  pointed  to  a  cleft  in  the  mountains. 
"Somehow  I  always  feel  that  my  way  lies  there  — 
on  the  other  side." 

Jimmy  drew  a  sunburned  finger  across  the 
pucker  that  perched  upon  her  brow 

"Over  the  hills  and  far  away,"  he  laughed. 

"Over  the  hills  and  far  away,"  she  sighed, 
swinging  into  step  beside  him. 

An  hour  later  in  the  tower  room,  she  took  a 
crumpled  piece  of  paper  from  her  sweater 
pocket  and  straightening  it  neatly,  pinned  it 
beside  a  motto  that  hung  there  —  a  homemade 


THREE  YEARS  LATER        183 

motto  that  Mayre  had  embellished  for  her.   The 
slip  of  paper  read : 

September  the  fifteenth,  19  — 

The  Mesa 
Four  o'clock 

Caroline  looked  from  the  memorandum  to  her 
improvised  axiom. 

"Think  straight,  look  straight,  act  straight  — 
then  do  as  you  please,"  it  advised. 

She  smiled  dreamily. 

As  of  old,  the  tower  room  was  Caroline's 
most  treasured  possession;  the  old  desk,  her 
friend  and  comforter.  She  still  scribbled. 
Pigeonholes  overflowed  with  the  tide  of  verse, 
short  stories,  dramas  that  ebbed  from  her  brain. 
Occasionally  she  sent  forth  a  bit,  sure  that  a 
publisher  would  welcome  it  warmly,  but  it  al- 
ways came  back. 

"Was  the  Misty  Mountain  Maid  accepted?" 
Kathleen  asked,  when  a  novelette  continued 
en  tour  for  a  month.  She  had  listened  to  the 
reading  with  awed  interest. 

Caroline  nodded. 

"Really?   Who  accepted  it?" 

"I  did  —  thankfully  —  when  it  came  back.  The 
editors  were  wise.  I  can  do  much  better " 

"What  did  they  say?" 

A  frank  smile  wreathed  Caroline's  lips. 


184      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"That  my  spelling  was  the  only  sign  of  genius 
they  could  discover." 

"Truly?" 

"Truly." 

"How  sarcastic  and  horrid!" 

Caroline  gave  her  friend  a  patient  glance. 

"You  don't  understand,  Kathy  dear/'  she 
said.  "It  is  very  encouraging  to  have  even  an 
adverse  criticism  on  the  margin  of  a  manuscript. 
It  shows  that  it  has  been  read  —  and  —  I  am  not 
looking  for  compliments.  I  am  looking  for 
criticism." 

An  attitude  that  argued  well  for  future 
success. 

But  the  years  had  not  left  their  telling  marks 
upon  Caroline  alone.  Doctor  and  Mrs.  Ravenel 
had  both  aged  under  the  stress  of  Hope's  sud- 
den going,  of  heavy  responsibilities  and  uncer- 
tain health.  Colorado  had  done  its  part  toward 
improving  Doctor  RaveneFs  lungs.  He  was  in 
far  better  health  than  when  he  arrived  in  the 
mountains;  he  breathed  with  less  difficulty;  his 
step  was  more  buoyant;  his  outlook  brighter. 
But  cares  weighed  upon  him ;  sick  people  fretted 
him,  especially  the  poor  who  struggled  against 
heavy  odds.  His  own  condition  had  made  him 
keenly  sympathetic.  He  gave  away  half  that 
he  made  and  often  failed  to  collect  the  rest. 
Business  acumen  had  no  place  in  his  make-up. 


THREE  YEARS  LATER    185 

He  was  too  fine  a  physician,  too  interested  in 
his  profession  to  commercialize  his  talents,  to 
specialize  among  the  rich.  Caroline  had  come 
by  her  democracy  honestly.  He  knew  neither 
race  nor  class. 

"It  was  absurd  for  you  to  get  up  in  the  night 
to  see  Uncle  George  (an  aged  Virginia  negro 
who  had  been  ill),"  Leigh  scolded  when  the 
call  resulted  in  a  cold. 

"Uncle  George  is  a  human  being,"  was  the 
quiet  answer.  "His  pain  is  as  gripping  as  a 
white  man's!" 

It  was  useless  to  argue.  Robert  Ravenel 
would  have  preferred  death  in  a  good  cause  to 
rest  and  neglect  of  duty. 

Maumy  Rachel  was  also  changing.  Her  step 
was  slower,  her  homesickness  a  little  more 
poignant,  but  she  seldom  murmured.  Her 
loyalty  never  flagged.  Her  place  was  with  Miss 
Em'bly  —  to  the  end. 

"Y'all  gwine  be  carryin'  me  out  the  front  door 
one  a  these  days,"  she  sometimes  said,  wrhen 
rheumatism  nagged  her.  "It  won't  be  long. 
I'se  gwine  cross  ole  Jerden  fer  sure." 

Maum  Rachel's  one  desire  in  life  was  to  have 
all  the  honors  that  were  coming  to  her  in  death. 

"Co'se  they  won't  be  anybody  in  this  here 
wilderness  that'll  care  whether  you  take  me  out 
front  or  back  —  but  it  can  be  writ  home  to  Vir- 


186      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

ginny.  And  I  want  y'all  to  lay  it  on  thick. 
Tell'm  how  Brother  Brown  he  prayed,  and  the 
choir  they  done  sung,  and  how  y'all  taken  me 
out  the  front  door/  I  don't  want  you  to  forgit 
that  —  the  front  door  —  same  as  any  Kirtley.  My 
ole  Miss  (this  was  to  Leigh),  your  gran'maw, 
she  done  promised  that  years  ago.  Miss  Em'bly, 
she  undastan's." 

"We  all  understand,  Maumy  dear.  Out  the 
front  door  you  go,  and  every  darky  in  Warrens- 
burg  shall  know  about  it,"  Leigh  promised. 

"Thankee,  honey.  I'se  gwine  trust  y'all  —  I'se 
gwine  trust." 

But  on  well  days  she  wras  more  optimistic. 

"Specs  I'se  gwine  outlive  y'all,"  she-  declared, 
"every  one  of  you.  They  won't  be  anybody  to 
carry  me  out  the  front  door.  Reckon  I'll  be 
the  las'  ole  sour  apple  lef  in  the  Kirtley  or- 
chard. Eeckon  maybe  y'all  gwine  have  to  kill 
me  off  like  old  dog  Tray." 

One  day  she  came  to  Leigh  with  a  roll  of  bills 
done  up  in  a  pocket  handkerchief. 

"You  keep  this  fer  me,  honey,"  she  begged. 
"It's  to  cart  my  ole  bones  back  to  Virginny.  I 
couldn't  rest  out  here  with  them  ole  rocks 
yander  a  watchin'  me.  Miss  Caroline  done  wrote 
Dorwin's  wife  'bout  havin'  a  service  fer  me  at 
home,  too.  I've  saved  enough  fer  a  right  smart 
burial  —  right  smart.  You  don't  need  to  stint  it 


THREE  YEARS  LATER    187 

any  —  git  a  wreath  if  you  want  to,  er  a  sheaf  a 
wheat  —  dat's  fer  ole  age  —  a  sheaf  with  roses 
maybe." 

"A  sheaf  it  shall  be,  Maum  Rachel/'  Leigh 
said,  and  put  the  money  in  the  bank. 

During  the  three  years,  Mayre,  perhaps,  had 
changed  less  than  others  in  the  family.  At 
nineteen  she  was  as  complete  a  replica  of  her 
mother  at  that  age  as  nature  could  reproduce. 
A  little  below  medium  height,  slender,  but  with 
promise  of  flesh  in  later  years. 

Her  four  years  in  high-school  had  been  un- 
eventful, patient,  plodding  years,  in  which  she 
added  as  best  she  could,  with  limited  facilities, 
to  her  store  of  art.  In  manner  she  was  retiring, 
shrinking  a  little  from  society.  It  was  Caroline 
who  brought  young  life  into  the  house,  never 
Mayre.  She  preferred  her  sketch-book  and  water 
colors  to  people;  long  walks  in  the  parks  and 
nearby  canons  to  trivial  personalities  which 
made  up  the  general  conversation  of  her  friends. 

In  the  summer  time  her  garden  occupied  her 
whole  attention.  It  was  a  beautiful  garden,  so 
beautiful  that  passers-by  often  stopped  to  look 
over  the  low  stone  coping  with  its  iron  fence. 
The  Virginia  roses  had  bloomed,  despite  the 
short  season.  Zinnias  and  daffodils,  hyacinths 
and  mignonette,  petunias  and  phlox  vied  with 
each  other  in  color  and  fragrance,  while  the 


188      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

honeysuckles  perfumed  the  whole  neighborhood. 

The  short,  sweet-scented  twilight  invariably 
found  Mayre  on  a  rustic  bench  under  the  peach 
tree,  her  hands  crossed  in  her  lap,  her  eyes  half- 
closed  and  dreamy. 

There  was  a  suggestion  of  haughtiness  about 
Mayre  that  was  at  base  shyness.  She  was 
sensitive  in  the  extreme:  a  peculiar  sensitive- 
ness that  is  often  found  in  talented  people,  a 
feeling  of  unworthiness,  of  inability  to  reach 
the  standard  set  by  a' demanding  conscience. 

Leigh  recognized  this  peculiar  quirk  and  tried 
in  various  ways  to  overcome  it.  Caroline  had 
no  patience  with  it.  By  a  process  of  elimina- 
tion, she  reduced  it  to  snobbishness.  Mayre  dis- 
liked ordinary  people  —  she  had  no  patience  with 
boys,  no  small  talk  with  which  to  beguile  them  — 
she  was  critical  —  old-maidish. 

But  Caroline  only  half  guessed  at  the  real 
truth.  Mayre's  nature  was  too  spiritual,  too  tem- 
permental  to  find  companionship  in  "ordinary 
people."  Her  mind  was  occupied  with  lofty 
ideals,  plans  to  increase  the  world's  beauty. 
Anything  ugly,  or  ordinary,  or  commonplace 
was  a  blot  on  God's  creation.  She  could  not 
help  feeling  that  way,  any  more  than  she  could 
resist  weeding  her  garden  or  pruning  the  peach 
tree  or  adding  tawny,  golden  touches  to  Caro- 
line's costumes. 


THREE  YEARS  LATER        189 

Leigh  was  different,  more  evenly  balanced, 
more  fortunate:  she  had  inherited  the  best  that 
her  father  and  mother  had  to  bestow.  She  was 
tender,  loving,  above  all,  sympathetic,  with  an 
understanding  that  took  in  rich  and  poor.  She 
was  never  critical  —  except  when  her  father  over- 
worked—  never  wholly  discouraged. 

Of  all  the  family  she  was  the  most  self-less. 
Her  own  comfort,  her  own  pleasure,  her  own 
desires  were  the  last  to  be  considered.  It  was 
Leigh  to  whom  Caroline  brought  her  knotty 
problems;  Leigh  to  whom  Mrs.  Ravenel  com- 
plained about  limited  means  and  inefficient 
help;  Leigh  who  visited  her  father's  poor  and 
made  two  dollars  stretch  to  five. 

So,  it  was  little  wonder  that  one  summer 
moonlit  night,  on  the  deserted  veranda,  when 
Blair  Newland  pressed  his  suit,  told  her  of  the 
love  that  filled  his  heart,  she  answered: 

"But  I  cannot  leave  Father  and  Mother  and 
the  girls,  Blair  dear,  even  —  though  I  care  for 
you  —  and  I  do  —  oh,  so  much.  They  need  me  — 
more  than  you  do.  You  are  young.  You  will 
find  some  one  else  —  some  one  stronger  —  better 
fitted  to  be  your  wife." 

Blair  understood. 

"It  is  because  of  that  I  love  you,  Leigh,"  he 
said  tenderly.  "Because  you  are  not  so  strong 
as  the  rest;  it  sets  you  apart.  I  want  to  take 


190      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

care  of  you  —  protect  you.  I  have  money  enough 
to  save  you  from  hardship  and  worry.  And  I 
need  you  more  than  you  may  think.  I  am  all 
alone." 

For  a  moment  her  breath  came  quick  and  fast 
< —  but  duty  persisted. 

"You  don't  quite  understand,"  she  said,  her 
blue  eyes  welling  with  tears.  "Of  course  you 
can't.  Father  is  so  far  from  strong,  I  am  his 
other  self  —  really.  And  mother  —  she  is  not 
constituted  to  help  him  —  not  as  I  am,  you  know. 
She  is  his  inspiration  —  for  her  he  lives  and 
breathes  and " 

She  stopped. 

"Don't  you  see?"  she  went  on,  her  small  white 
hands  clasped  together  in  an  agony  of  feeling. 
"I  must  refuse  your  love  —  for  them.  One  can- 
not do  wrong  and  feel  right.  I  could  not  make 
you  happy  —  knowing  their  need." 

And  Blair  had  taken  the  trembling  hands  in 
his  own  and  wiped  away  the  tears. 

"I  can  wait  until  you  find  that  my  need  is 
even  greater  than  theirs,"  he  said  patiently. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  MADAME  VIEWS  AUNT  CAROLINE 

A  LTHOUGH  The  Lodge  continued  to  be  a 
A\  never-failing  source  of  interest  to  Caro- 
line, she  rarely  saw  its  occupants.  Occa- 
sionally Madame  Wakefield  appeared  in  the  sun 
parlor,  to  be  served  tea  by  a  decorous  English 
maid,  picturesque  in  her  black  dress,  white  cap 
and  apron. 

Sometimes,  in  crossing  the  street,  Caroline 
met  a  young  man  emerging  from  the  house,  a 
well-set-up,  attractive  young  man  of  Jimmy 
Ludlow's  age.  He  always  stepped  aside  with  a 
pleasant  smile  and  gave  her  the  better  part  of 
the  sandy  walk.  There  was  an  expression  in  his 
eyes  (what  she  could  catch  of  it  through  his 
heavily  rimmed,  tortoise-shell  glasses),  that 
went  with  her  for  blocks. 

"I  wonder  what  he  does  there,"  she  thought, 
as  she  wended  her  way  to  high  school.  "He 
looks  too  well  groomed  for  a  servant,  and  too 
young  for  manager.  Perhaps  he  is  a  relative." 


192      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

She  found  out  one  day  in  a  very  unexpected 
manner.  It  was  shortly  after  Jimmy's  depart- 
ure: a  rare  September  afternoon,  so  beautiful 
that  every  one  who  owned  a  horse,  a  motor,  or 
a  high,  red-wheeled  dogcart  was  driving  up  the 
long  white  avenue. 

She  was  nearing  The  Lodge,  when  suddenly 
from  out  a  corner  of  the  low  green  hedge  Ivan 
Romanoff  bounded.  He  gave  her  a  quick  look 
as  he  ran  toward  the  avenue,  and,  evidently  in- 
terested in  her  appearance,  turned  for  another 
view,  raising  his  shaggy  head  in  a  saucy  bark. 

It  was  an  ill-timed  glance.  Caroline  saw  the 
danger  instantly,  and  dropping  her  books  on 
the  pavement,  rushed  to  his  rescue. 

Ivan  was  not  used  to  motors,  except  in  the 
garage  where  they  were  always  silent,  and  the 
quick,  warning  blasts  from  a  chauffeur's  horn 
bewildered  him. 

Caroline  never  quite  knew  how  the  accident 
happened.  It  was  all  sudden  and  disturbing, 
but  when  she  regained  her  senses  she  found  her- 
self being  led  from  the  avenue  with  poor  little 
Ivan's  mangled  body  in  her  arms,  and  a  nice 
English  voice,  the  most  beautiful,  musical  voice 
was  saying: 

"My  dear  young  lady,  you  risked  your  life  for 
the  little  chap ;  really,  you  know,  it  was  wonder- 
ful to  see  you  do  it  —  such  nerve.  You  must 


MADAME'S  VISIT  193 

come  into  the  house  with  me  and  let  Madame, 
my  aunt,  speak  with  you.  She  will  be  no  end 
grateful " 

"But  I  wasn't  in  time,  so  she  hasn't  anything 
to  —  to  thank  me  for,"  Caroline  said  while  two 
luminous  tears  welled  in  her  eyes. 

The  young  man  looked  at  her  in  bewilderment. 

"But  it  might  have  been  you  we  are  carrying 
in.  Jove,  what  an  escape!  It  was  a  ripping 
dash.  I  was  after  the  little  beggar,  too.  It 
takes  a  houseful  to  watch  him " 

"Your  aunt  will  be  grieved,  won't  she?"  Caro- 
line asked  (the  young  man  had  taken  the  dog 
from  her) ;  "she  seemed  fond  of  him." 

"Oh,  I  say,  no  end,  yes !  Ivan's  her  creed,  her 
law  and  gospel.  But  when  one  has  mothered 
all  the  children  in  the  family  and  seen  them 
settled  in  homes  of  their  own  —  nieces,  nephews, 
orphans  and  servants  —  why,  one  is  entitled  to 
the  affection  of  a  heathen  god  —  isn't  one?  I  beg 
your  pardon  —  my  name  is  Feveral,  and  yours?" 

"Caroline  Ravenel." 

"This  way,  please,  Miss  Ravenel  (they  were 
in  the  charming,  softly  curtained  hall),  and  sit 
down,  won't  you?  I  will  have  James  bring  you 
some  wine  at  once " 

"Oh,  not  wine  —  please.  Just  cold  water. 
And  I  think  I  won't  stop  now.  Your  aunt  will 
be  too  distressed." 


194      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

The  sentence  was  left  suspended,  for  Mr. 
Feveral  had  taken  the  dog  away. 

Caroline  sank  down  on  the  edge  of  a  rich 
velvet  chair,  then  seeing  how  dust-begrimed  she 
was,  moved  to  a  less  pretentious  one.  She  be- 
gan to  realize  what  a  risk  she  had  taken  when 
She  glanced  at  herself  in  the  gold-framed  mirror 
above  the  table  where  young  Feveral  had  thrown 
his  gray  tweed  cap.  Her  dress  was  torn,  a  long 
rent  that  Leigh's  careful  darning  would  never 
hide;  the  hairpins  had  fallen  from  her  hair, 
letting  it  loose  over  her  back.  Across  her  cheek 
there  was  a  slight  abrasion  (she  never  learned 
how  she  received  it),  and  her  hands  were  soiled 
and  wet  with  Ivan's  blood. 

"Oh,  I  —  I  am  a  sight,"  she  said  aloud  and 
jumping  up  made  her  way  from  the  house 
quickly. 

It  was  an  hour  later  that  Alfred  Feveral  lo- 
cated her  (perhaps  he  hadn't  as  much  difficulty 
as  she  imagined)  and  begged  her  to  run  over  to 
the  house  for  a  moment.  Madame  was  very 
anxious  to  see  her. 

The  stout  old  lady  was  still  bathed  in  tears; 
her  merry  eyes  had  lost  their  sparkle,  but  she 
rose  and  stretched  a  welcoming  hand. 

"Alfred  has  told  me  of  your  splendid  bravery, 
dear  child,"  she  said.  "How  can  I  ever  thank 
you?" 


MADAME'S  VISIT  195 

"You  mustn't  try.  I  did  so  little.  I  am  only 
sorry  that  I  wasn't  quicker." 

"You  risked  your  life  —  your  life  —  for  little 
Ivan.  I  can  never  forget  it  —  never !" 

"Perhaps  if  I  had  thought  about  my  danger 
I  wouldn't  have  done  it,"  Caroline  said  frankly. 
"My  old  darky  Maumy  says  I've  got  'a.  nat'rl 
appitude  for  acting  first  and  thinking  after- 
ward.' I  reckon  maybe  she's  right." 

Madame  Wakefield  caught  the  Southern  ac- 
cent, noted  the  softly  modulated  voice. 

"You  are  from  the  South?"  she  inquired. 

"Virginia.  We  came  here  five  years  ago  for 
my  father's  health.  He  was  quite  ill  then,  but 
now  he  is  almost  well  —  Colorado  is  so  wonder- 
ful." 

"And  your  name?" 

"Ravenel.  My  father  is  Doctor  Robert  Rave- 
nel.  We  live  almost  across  the  street." 

"I  see.  Virginia,  you  say.  May  I  ask  what 
part?" 

"A  small  place  called  Warrensburg.  Nearly 
the  whole  town  was  once  owned  by  my  grand- 
father, but  after  the  war  we  lost  a  lot  of  prop- 
erty —  most  Southerners  did,  you  know " 

Madame  Wakefield  sank  back  upon  the  sofa 
again.  She  seemed  crushed  and  weary,  but  she 
glanced  often  at  the  charming  face  opposite. 
When  Caroline  turned  to  speak  with  Alfred 


196      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Feveral,  she  became  more  bold.  Her  keen  eyes 
traversed  the  animated  profile  slowly,  wonder- 
ingly. 

"You  are  English,  I  reckon,"  she  heard  her 
saying  to  Alfred.  "You  speak  as  if  you  were. 
We  have  relatives  in  England  —  at  least  we  once 
had  —  no  doubt  my  Great-aunt  Caroline  is  dead 
now.  She  was  Mother's  aunt.  She  married  when 
ehe  was  only  eighteen,  and  went  over  there  to 
live.  We  have  a  lovely  portrait  of  her.  You'd 
like  it,  I  am  sure.  She  seems  so  good-natured. 
So  sort  of  human,  you  know.  Her  smile  always 
says,  "Howdy,  I  hope  I  see  you  well."  They 
think  in  the  family  that  I  look  a  little  like  her  — 
a  very  little.  I  am  more  Ravenel  than  Kirt- 
ley- 

She  broke  off  suddenly  for  Madame  Wakefield 
had  straightened  and  was  peering  down  at  her 
with  wide,  interested  eyes. 

"I  beg  your  pardon.  I  am  talking  an  awful 
lot,  I  know.  I  thought  perhaps  it  might  take 
your  mind  from  —  from  your  trouble.  Father 
always  says  you  mustn't  talk  disease  to  sick 
people,  it's  bad  for  them,  and  Maumy  Rachel  — 
she's  my  old  nurse  —  has  a  saying  —  all  negroes 
have " 

"Yes?"    Madame's  voice  was  eager. 

"Maumy  says  'you  must  never  speak  of  a  rope 
in  a  house  where  there  has  been  a  hanging.'  Its 


MADAME'S  VISIT  197 

just  a  sort  of  proverb,  you  know,  but  it  applies 
to  a  lot  of  things 

Alfred's  laugh  rang  out  low  and  clear. 

"I  say,  Madame,  why  haven't  we  known  Miss 
Ravenel  before.  Here  we've  been  dying  of  ennui, 
with  an  antidote  right  across  the  street.  I  hope 
that  you  will  adopt  us,  Miss " 

"Call  me  Caroline,  please.  I  am  hardly 
grown  up  yet.  You  see,  I  have  three  older 
sisters.  I  had  four  —  but  —  but  the  little  one  — 
our  darling  Hope  left  us  three  years  ago " 

"I  am  very  sorry."  Madame's  voice  was  full 
of  sympathy.  "You  were  speaking  of  this  aunt 
in  England.  What  was  her  name?  It  is  barely 
possible  I  may  have  chanced  upon  her.  I  know 
a  great  many  people " 

"That's  the  funny  part  of  it.  We  can't  for 
the  life  of  us  remember  her  married  name. 
Mother  can't,  even.  It  was  all  so  long  ago.  But 
we  have  a  lot  of  fun  about  her.  My  sister  Ali- 
son is  some  day  going  to  inherit  her  diamonds 
and  pearls.  Mayre's  going  to  Paris  to  study 
art  with  the  pile  she  leaves  her,  and  I " 

"Yes,  and  you?"  Madame  seemed  very  inter- 
ested. 

"I  used  to  think  I  would  take  my  money  and 
buy  a  circus,  but  I  have  rather  outgrown  that 
idea.  I  think  now  perhaps  a  private  menagerie 
would  be  enough,  with  a  baby  wildcat,  —  you  can 


198      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

get  them  here  in  the  mountains,  a  few  good  dogs, 
and  a  pony." 

"You  like  dogs?"  It  was  Alfred  who  asked  the 
question. 

"I  love  them.  We  have  one:  Chow,  an  Aire- 
dale. He  is  very  smart.  I  fear  I  must  be  going 
now.  Perhaps,  if  you  really  have  been  bored 
and  lonesome,  you  would  come  over  some  after- 
noon and  have  tea  with  us  on  the  veranda. 
Maumy  has  quite  a  reputation  on  her  corn  bread 
and  muffins.  I  think  you  would  like  them. 
Mother  has  never  made  calls  since  —  since  my 
sister  died  —  but  I  will  ask  Leigh  to  run  over. 
Leigh  is  my  young  lady  sister  —  a  perfect  saint." 

It  was  just  two  weeks  later  (Leigh  had  will- 
ingly made  the  call)  that  Madame  Wakefield 
and  her  nephew  came  to  tea. 

Maumy  donned  her  best  white  apron,  her 
snowiest  cap.  It  was  too  cool  for  the  veranda, 
so  a  cheerful  fire  was  laid  on  the  old  brass  and 
irons  in  the  drawing-room. 

The  hour  passed  quickly.  Madame  Wakefield 
was  entertaining,  her  nephew  delightful.  He 
seemed  particularly  interested  in  Mayre's  draw- 
ings, which  Caroline  had  insisted  upon  being 
shown,  and  in  her  charming  garden. 

"You  have  a  real  gift,"  he  declared,  as  they 
strolled  through  the  grounds,  viewing  the  artis- 
tic arrangement  of  flowers  and  shrubs.  "I  have 


MADAME'S  VISIT  199 

had  some  experience  in  landscaping,  myself.  At 
home  we  make  rather  a  specialty  of  it.  Those 
groups  and  masses  over  there.  Excellent !  And 
the  open  center!  Capital!"  He  laughed  pleas- 
antly. 

"By  the  way,"  he  added,  "walk  back  with  us, 
and  I  will  give  you  some  textbooks  and  magazines 
on  the  subject."  He  included  Caroline. 

In  the  hall  Madam  Wakefield  paused  in  front 
of  Grandfather  Kirtley's  portrait. 

"Your  daughter  spoke  to  me  about  her  an- 
cestors," she  said  to  Mrs.  Kavenel.  "This  is 
your  paternal  grandfather?" 

Caroline  entered  at  that  moment. 

"Please  look  at  Great-aunt,  too,  Madame 
Wakefield.  You  remember  I  told  you  about  her 
—  up  there  in  the  niche.  Isn't  she  lovely  —  just 
everything  that  a  girl  ought  to  be?" 

Madame  Wakefield  went  a  few  steps  nearer, 
holding  her  lorgnette  to  her  short-sighted  eyes. 
She  seemed  warm  and  puffy.  Her  apple  cheeks 
were  scarlet. 

"Very,  indeed." 

"Don't  you  like  her  smile?  I  do  hope  if  she's 
passed  on  she  took  that  smile  with  her.  It  would 
cheer  up  most  any  angel  —  wouldn't  it?  Maybe 
angels  don't  need  cheering,  though.  I  love  that 
twinkle;  her  eyes  make  me  think  of  stars.  When 
I  was  very  little,  I  used  sometimes  to  be  rather 


200      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

naughty  —  very  naughty,"  she  corrected,  "and 
when  I  passed  Great-aunt  on  the  stairs,  she 
seemed  to  be  laughing  at  me.  Once  —  I  remember 
the  time  very  well  —  it  annoyed  me  so  that  I  put 
my  tongue  out  at  her  —  you  know  —  as  naughty 
children  do." 

As  usual,  Caroline  was  going  back  into  the 
family  saga.  Maumy  gave  her  a  gentle  nudge 
as  she  passed  with  the  luster  cups  on  the  round 
mahogany  tray. 

Madame  studied  the  portrait  for  some  minutes. 
"Very  interesting,"  was  her  only  comment,  as 
she  opened  the  black  fan  suspended  from  her 
heavy  wrist.  Her  face  was  still  red. 

Caroline  was  eager  to  view  the  house  across 
the  way,  and  when  Madame  suggested  that  Al- 
fred show  them  through,  she  was  delighted. 

She  had  seen  handsome  houses  before,  but 
there  was  an  air  about  The  Lodge  that  delighted 
her  very  soul. 

"It  is  so  beautiful,"  she  said,  glancing  about 
the  living  room.  Back  of  the  long  deep  sofa  ran 
an  equally  long  table  with  two  handsome  lamps 
upon  it;  books  and  magazines  added  to  its  in- 
terest. There  was  another  table  at  one  end  that 
also  held  books  and  Alfred's  pipes  and  cigars. 
A  magazine  had  been  left  open.  Caroline  al- 
most wanted  to  drop  down  on  the  soft  cushions 
beside  it  and  continue  where  some  one  had  left 


Madame  studied  the  portrait  for  some 
minutes.     Page  200. 


MADAME'S  VISIT  201 

off  —  she  knew  that  someone  had  —  it  was 
thrown  down  so  carelessly. 

But  it  was  the  sitting  room  upstairs,  replica 
of  the  one  below,  only  more  cozy  and  intimate, 
that  fascinated  her.  A  sleepy  fire  burned  on  a 
generous  hearth ;  comfortable  chairs  were  drawn 
close;  a  shaggy  dog  rose  as  they  entered,  and 
showed  his  pink  tongue  in  a  prodigious  yawn. 
A  white  cat  with  a  snuggling  kitten  slept  on  a 
mulberry  velvet  cushion  —  slept  as  if  dogs  were 
natural  friends  —  not  enemies. 

There  was  ample  time  to  look  about  while 
Mayre  and  her  host  pored  over  books  and  maga- 
zines. When  they  did  turn,  they  found  her 
dreaming  over  a  man's  portrait  above  the  mantel. 

"I  like  him:  almost  as  well  as  Great-aunt," 
she  said,  roused  to  conversation.  "Please  tell  us 
about  him." 

Alfred's  eyes  rested  sadly  on  the  handsome 
face  above. 

"My  brother  —  Charles  —  eldest  in  our  family, 
poor  chap.  He  lost  his  wife  here  a  few  years 
ago.  Tough  luck.  Never's  got  over  it.  They 
were  sweethearts  from  childhood.  One  of  those 
romantic  affairs  that  —  stick." 

"Oh!"  The  word  came  in  a  smothered  gasp. 
Caroline  was  squirming  with  interest.  She 
wanted  to  ask  a  dozen  questions  which  good  taste 
forbade. 


202      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

But  later,  when  May  re  and  Alfred  had  gone 
below  to  look  at  shrubs  and  the  arrangement  of 
flower  beds,  Madame  Wakefield  came  into  the 
room  and  sat  down  by  the  fire.  Caroline  took 
her  courage  in  her  hands  and  asked  about  the 
aristocratic  looking  gentleman  above. 

And  —  well  —  perhaps  it  was  because  Madame 
was  in  a  mellow,  reminiscent  mood,  or  perhaps 
she  felt  drawn  to  Caroline  because  of  poor  little 
Ivan;  at  any  rate  she  told  her  the  sad  story  of 
Charles  Feveral  and  his  girl  wife :  of  their  happy 
childhood,  long  courtship,  and  the  tragic  end  so 
far  from  home  and  friends. 

"These  are  all  his  things,"  she  said,  with  a 
wave  of  her  plump,  jeweled  hand:  "portraits, 
rugs,  bric-a-brac,  pictures.  They  brought  them 
all  across  the  sea,  expecting  to  make  their  home 
here.  But  after  she  went "  There  was  an- 
other wave  of  the  hand,  a  gesture  more  eloquent 
than  words. 

"He  couldn't  bear  the  sight  of  them,"  Caroline 
finished. 

"Exactly.  The  house  was  locked  for  two  years. 
Then  Alfred  and  I  came  over  —  we  were  touring 
America.  I  had  lived  here  once,  many  years 
ago.  We  liked  this  enchanting  spot  so  much  that 
we  lingered  on." 

"Is  Mr.  Feveral  through  college?" 

"Oh,  yes;  he  was  graduated  several  years  ago." 


MADAME'S  VISIT  203 

Caroline's  democracy  got  the  better  of  her 
manners. 

"Isn't  he  going  to  work  —  now  that  he  is 
through?"  An  idle  man  was  an  abomination  in 
her  sight. 

"Dear,  yes ;  he  is  my  secretary.  He  transacts 
a  great  deal  of  business  for  me.  I  sometimes 
think  I  keep  him  too  busy  for  a  young  man  just 
through  with  college  work.  He  should  have  had 
a  year  to  play." 

"But  he  has  traveled.  That  is  such  fun.  How 
I  should  love  it.  When  I  get  my  fortune " 

She  laughed  at  the  old  joke,  and,  though  Ma- 
dame did  not  join,  her  lips  broke  into  a  smile. 

The  friendship  between  the  two  families  rip- 
ened. After  that  first  visit  there  were  long  rides 
together.  Madame's  motors  accomodated  so 
many:  picnics  in  the  canons,  tea  parties  in  the 
sun  room ;  cozy  chats  before  the  upstairs  sitting- 
room  fire.  That,  perhaps,  was  the  greatest  treat 
to  Caroline.  She  loved  to  dream  over  Charles 
Feveral's  portrait,  muse  on  his  hope  and  dis- 
appointments. 

Alfred  came  to  see  Mayre  often,  but  not  Mayre 
alone.  He  never  singled  her  out,  but  they  had  a 
great  deal  in  common.  And  Mayre  blossomed 
under  his  tutelage.  Her  drawings  were  bolder, 
more  original;  her  smile  brighter.  Sometimes 
she  sang  (or  tried  to)  as  she  dusted  the  drawing- 


204      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

room  or  wiped  the  dishes  for  Maumy  Kachel. 
May  re's  singing  was  the  joke  of  the  family.  Her 
voice  seemed  to  have  a  natural  aversion  to  pitch, 
and  it  took  all  sorts  of  liberties  with  keys;  but 
then  Mayre  was  never  like  other  people. 

"You  are  off  again,"  Caroline  would  laugh, 
as  she  struggled  with  a  topical  song,  and  Mayre 
would  fling : 

"I  know  the  words  —  that's  more  than  you  do." 
On  several  occasions  Caroline  had  convulsed  her 
sisters  in  church  by  applying  her  own  methods 
to  the  hymns ;  words  were  a  mere  incident  in  the 
singing.  When  she  couldn't  find  the  hymn  book, 
or  a  stranger  monopolized  it,  she  made  them  up. 

It  was  after  she  had  known  Alfred  Feveral  a 
month  or  more  that  Caroline  said  one  night  to 
Mayre : 

"I  know  now  what  it  is  I  like  about  his  eyes. 
I  used  to  wonder  when  he  passed  me  on  my  way 
to  school.  It's  enthusiasm !  It  leaped  into  them 
when  he  stepped  aside  to  give  me  the  path;  he 
liked  doing  it  —  it  interested  him.  Enthusiasm ! 
That's  a  wonderful  possession.  I  believe  it  shows 
in  people's  eyes  first  of  all  —  it  opens  them,  takes 
off  the  scales." 

And  Mayre,  humming  her  crooked  little  tune, 
smiled  happily. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

ALISON  RETURNS 

IT  was  just  a  month  before  Christmas  that 
the  wonderful  news  came.  Mayre  was  so 
excited,  that  she  met  Caroline  at  the  corner 
on  her  return  from  school.  If  Mayre  hadn't  been 
a  Kirtley,  and  so  well-bred,  she  would  have 
shouted  it,  but  she  didn't.  She  waited  until 
Caroline  caught  step  beside  her ;  then  she  turned. 

"Guess  what's  happened,"  she  said,  her  blue 
eyes  roused  from  their  usual  serenity. 

"What,  Mayre;  tell  me?" 

"Guess!" 

"Maumy  Rachel's  going  back  to  Virginia?" 

"No." 

"Father's  performed  a  big  operation?" 

"No." 

"Mother's  ill." 

"Would  I  be  looking  so  happy  if  Mother  were 
ill?" 

"Oh,  tell  me.  Tell  me  quickly!  Is  it  some- 
thing wonderful?  Has  the  Waucaweta  (the 
Waucaweta  was  a  mining  claim  that  was  some 


206      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

day  to  outrival  the  great-aunt's  fortune)  struck 
gold?" 

"Alison's  coming  home!  She  will  be  here  to- 
morrow. She  telegraphed  from  Chicago.  Oh, 
I  can't  wait  to  see  her.  I  just  simply  can't!" 

And  although  it  was  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon and  the  highway  full  of  drivers  and  pedes- 
trians, Caroline  executed  a  cakewalk  on  the 
sidewalk. 

"Mayre!  Oh,  joy,  joy!  We  will  all  be  to- 
gether again  —  all  of  us " 

For  an  instant  a  shadow  crept  across  her 
bright  face  and  she  looked  away  toward  the  east, 
to  Evergreen,  where  little  Hope  slept,  but  her 
happiness  was  too  keen  to  be  overclouded. 

"Leigh  feels  sure  that  she  is  coming  home  to 
be  married,  and  that  we  won't  have  her  long. 
But  won't  it  be  wonderful  to  see  her?  Do  you 
suppose  she  has  changed  much  in  three  years? 
Cousin  Eliza  always  writes  how  beautiful  she  is. 
I  shall  be  so  proud  to  introduce  her  to  Alf  (it 
was  Alf  now)  and  the  Madame.  Alison  always 
was  'quality,'  Maumy  says,  even  when  she  was 
a  baby." 

Caroline  found  the  household  in  a  flutter. 
Maumy  Rachel  was  up  to  her  elbows  in  pie  crust, 
cookies  and  doughnuts. 

"Lucky  I  got  my  fruit  cake  and  plum  puddin' 
locked  up  and  ready,"  she  said,  as  she  rolled 


ALISON  RETURNS  207 

and  patted  and  trimmed.  "Lucky  fer  y'all  dat 
I  'sisted  on  makin'  extry  ones,  too.  I  haid  a 
hunch  —  yes'm  —  a  hunch  —  I  gits  'em  —  I  had 
one  'fore  we  come  out  hyre  to  this  Gord-forsook 
country.  I  done  dream  fer  three  nights  'bout 
climbin'  hills  —  long  steep  hills,  and  every  time 
I  git  one  foot  up  t'other  would  slip  back.  I  knew 
what  that  meant." 

"What,  Maumy?"  Caroline  was  always  in- 
terested. 

"Why,  hit  meant  I  was  a-comin'  out  here  to 
these  mountains,  but  dat  I  was  gwine  to  leave 
my  heart  and  soul  and  —  and  feet  —  they's 
always  been  planted  in  Virginny,  at  home.  I 
ain't  never  been  here  altogether  —  I  jes'  brought 
my  haid  and  my  ole  eyes  and  my  han's — dat's 
all  —  de  rest  ob  me  is  down  in  Dixie.  I  been 
thinking  to-day  dat  if  y'all  could  git  'long  with- 
out me,  I'd  git  Miss  Alison  to  take  me  back " 

"Oh,  Maumy  dear " 

Caroline's  tones  were  pleading. 

"I  know  it  ain't  right,  honey,  but  I'se  gittin' 
ole.  I  ain't  sayin'  I'se  gwine,  mebby  Miss  Alison 
she  don't  want  me,  an'  I  ain't  never  gwine  live 
with  Dorwin's  wife.  She's  yalfer.  But  we'll 
see.  Don't  you  git  to  worryin'.  Maumy  ain't 
gone  yet." 

"If  you  go,  I'll  go  too,  Maumy,"  Caroline  said. 
"It  would  not  be  home  without  you.  I  know 


208      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

when  I  was  little  you  didn't  care  about  me  much 
—  I  reckon  I  did  keep  you  busy,  but  —  but  I 
loved  you  —  all  the  time,  Maumy " 

And  Maumy,  regardless  of  floured  hands, 
walked  over  to  where  Caroline  was  standing  and 
gave  her  a  hug. 

"You  sure  was  a  sassy  young5  un,"  she  said 
gravely,  "but  you've  improved.  I  shouldn't  be 
'sprised  if  you  turned  out  a  Kirtley  yit  —  you've 
got  the  makin's.  —  Sometimes  I  kin  see  your 
grandmaw  in  you,  and  sometimes  yer  Aunt  Mary- 
bel,  and  sometimes  yer  Uncle  Gilbert,  yer  maw's 
brother  —  but  most  the  time  I  see  —  What  you 
reckon,  Missy?" 

"I  don't  know,  Maumy." 

"Yer  paw.  And  that's  a  compl'ment  fer  you. 
An'  —  I  don't  know  but  that  I'd  almos'  as  soon 
see  you  a  Ravenel  —  as  a  Kirtley  —  if  you  was 
like  him,  chile.  I  ain't  never  seen  his  match  on 
this  yere  earth.  He's  plum  too  good  fer  this  hard 
ole  worl'." 

"I  think  that  too  sometimes,  Maumy,"  Caro- 
line whispered,  and  left  the  kitchen  with  swim- 
ming eyes. 

They  expected  to  find  Alison  changed,  of 
course,  but  they  were  not  prepared  to  greet  the 
very  elegant  young  person  who  stepped  from  the 
train  and  gazed  about  as  if  the  surroundings 
were  totally  strange.  A  neat  colored  maid, 


ALISON  RETURNS  209 

carrying  parcels  and  wraps,  stood  just  behind 
her. 

"Mother  darling  —  and  Father  —  and  oh,  girls, 
how  lovely  to  see  you !"  was  her  greeting,  but  it 
was  given  in  such  low,  correct  tones,  with  such 
a  polite  handshake,  that  Caroline  stood  amazed. 

"Why  don't  you  fling  your  arms  around  us  and 
hug  us?"  she  asked,  eyeing  the  stylish  tailored 
suit  her  sister  was  wearing,  the  smart  hat  and 
gloves. 

"Wait  until  I  get  you  home,  you  dears,"  Alison 
said.  "I  dislike  public  exhibitions  —  so  vulgar. 
Mother,  you  are  not  looking  well.  Have  you  been 
ill?  And  Leigh  dear,  you  are  tired." 

Her  appraising  eyes  had  swept  them  all ;  each 
had  been  catalogued:  Caroline  was  amazingly 
good  looking;  Mayre  old-maidish  and  prim;  her 
father  in  better  health. 

"Oh,  Abbie,"  she  said,  turning  to  the  maid, 
"this  is  my  family."  Abbie  bobbed  her  head  and 
showed  her  gleaming  teeth  in  a  smile. 

"Abbie  has  been  my  maid  ever  since  we  went 
abroad,  and  Cousin  Eliza  simply  would  not  per- 
mit me  to  come  home  without  her;  she " 

"Your  maid !"  Caroline's  tone  rose  above  the 
rumble  of  the  on-moving  train. 

"Yes,  dear  —  not  so  loud."  Alison  laid  a  finger 
on  her  lips  with  a  warning  "Ssh."  "I  was  going 
to  say  that  Abbie  will  be  very  useful  to  us  all." 


210      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Mayre  had  expected  that  Alison  would  come 
back  into  the  old  room  where  they  had  held  so 
many  pleasant  conferences,  but  Alison  was  of 
a  different  mind. 

"Would  you  object  to  my  having  the  guest 
room  while  I  am  at  home,  Mother  dear?"  she 
asked.  "I  have  been  so  used  to  spreading  out, 
and  I  have  so  many  trunks  —  I  will  explain  about 
them  later  —  Abbie  could  have  the  little  room 
across  the  hall,  perhaps.  I  am  so  accustomed  to 
having  her  near." 

Mrs.  Ravenel  quickly  consented.  It  was 
Doctor  Ravenel  who  watched  his  second  daughter 
with  clouded  eyes.  He  had  said  very  little,  ex- 
cept to  inquire  for  her  health. 

Directly  after  lunch,  Alison  went  to  her  room ; 
Caroline,  as  of  old,  trotted  after  her. 

"I  am  going  to  watch  you  unpack,"  she  said, 
"I  am  dying  to  see  your  pretty  things." 

"Abbie  will  unpack,  dear,"  was  the  inhospitable 
answer.  "Come  up  a  little  later.  I  am  very 
tired.  I  should  like  to  rest  for  an  hour  or  two. 
We  shall  have  so  many  visits.  I  shall  be  here 
until  after  Christmas,  you  know." 

"But  I  want  to  see  Tevis  McElroy's  picture. 
Couldn't  you  just  show  me  that?" 

"After  while,  darling  —  please." 

Caroline  turned,  feeling  ten  rather  than  six- 
teen. She  wandered  back  to  the  drawing-room 


ALISON  RETURNS  211 

where  her  mother  sat  before  the  fire.  There  was 
a  pleased  smile  on  Mrs.  RavenePs  serene  face. 

"Mother,"  she  began,  pulling  a  hassock  to  her 
feet,"do  you  remember  the  day  we  first  came  into 
this  house  and  you  said  something  about  people 
being  refined  —  re-fined? ,  I  wanted  to  know 
what  the  word  meant." 

"Yes,  dear." 

"I  know  now." 

Mrs.  Ravenel  turned  expectantly. 

"It  means  —  Alison." 

"That's  a  very  pretty  compliment,  darling." 

"I  didn't  mean  it  that  way.  I  — I  hate  it. 
She's  all  covered  up  with  polish.  I  would  like 
to  stick  a  pin  in  her  and  see  if  she's  real  —  if  it 
would  bring  blood " 

"Caroline !" 

"Oh,  Mother,  if  that's  what  finishing  means, 
being  re-fined,  so  that  you  just  shake  hands  with 
your  own  folks  at  the  depot  after  you  have  been 
away  three  years  —  for  fear  somebody  will  think 
you  vulgar  —  I  —  want  to  be  common !" 

"But  she  was  very  affectionate  when  we 
reacted  home,  dear.  And  you  must  remember 
that  Alison  was  never  demonstrative." 

"I  remember." 

"I  am  delighted  with  her  improvement.  Her 
manners  are  charming,  quite  correct." 

"Made  to  order,  yes  —  run  in  a  mold  like  forty- 


212      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

'leven  others.  She's  lost  her  individuality.  She 
makes  me  tired!" 

Caroline  rose,  gave  the  hassock  a  shove  and 
went  into  the  office. 

Her  father  was  sitting  by  the  west  window, 
looking  at  the  mountains.  Caroline  sniffed  the 
odor  of  his  lighted  cigar. 

"I  am  glad  you  are  smoking,  Major,"  she  said. 
"It  always  mellows  you.  May  I  talk?" 

With  courtesy  inborn,  Doctor  Ravenel  rose 
and  pulled  up  a  chair  for  his  daughter. 

"Oh,  Major,"  she  sighed,  sinking  into  it,  "why 
can't  people  be  polite  —  like  you  are  —  without 
being  polished." 

"What's  the  matter,  honey?" 

"Are  you  pleased  with  Alison,  Major?" 

Doctor  Ravenel  puffed  for  a  few  minutes  in 
silence.  Caroline  seemed  preoccupied,  but  oc- 
casionally she  reached  for,  and  caught  on  a 
slender  brown  finger  the  rings  of  smoke  that  left 
his  lips.  Years  of  practice  had  made  her  an 
adept. 

Neither  spoke.  The  Major's  eyes  were  inscru- 
table. 

"Let's  give  Alison  a  chance,  honey,"  he  re- 
marked finally.  And  Caroline  knew  that  the 
conversation  was  closed,  so  far  as  her  sister  was 
concerned. 

Caroline's  conscience  smote  her  a  little  when 


ALISON  RETURNS  213 

Alison  came  down  to  tea,  lovely  and  fragrant  in 
a  correct  afternoon  gown.  The  photograph  in 
a  silver  frame  which  she  carried  in  her  hand 
was  deposited  in  Caroline's  lap. 

"Here,  dear,  is  your  new  brother-in-law,"  she 
said.  "I  hope  that  you  will  love  him  as  much 
as  he  expects  to  love  you.  Tell  me  how  you  like 
him." 

Caroline  studied  the  face  closely.  Abbie  had 
followed  Alison  with  her  hands  full  of  packages; 
there  was  ample  time  to  consider  the  face  while 
gifts  were  distributed. 

Alison's  perfect  taste  had,  as  usual,  manifested 
itself.  There  was  a  gold  thimble  for  her  mother, 
which  would  have  been  most  acceptable  if  she 
had  not  already  owned  two;  a  dozen  fine,  hand- 
initialed  handkerchiefs  for  Leigh ;  a  small,  well- 
executed  water-color  for  Mayre;  and  for  Caro- 
line  » 

Caroline  almost  held  her  breath  when  Alison 
put  the  small  jewel  case  in  her  hand,  saying  to 
her: 

"This  is  from  Cousin  Eliza.  I  told  her  one 
day  about  your  having  given  your  pearl  ring  to 
a  little  sick  girl,  and  she  insisted  that  you  must 
have  this.  It  is  one  Uncle  Finley  gave  her  soon 
after  they  were  married.  It  was  so  generous  of 
her  to  send  it." 

Caroline  pressed  the  spring  in   the  crimson 


214      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

velvet  case  and  gave  an  ecstatic  "Oh!"  The 
family  crowded  close. 

"How  exquisite,"  Mrs.  Ravenel  said,  peering 
through  her  lorgnette. 

Caroline  slipped  the  ring  on  her  finger.  It 
was  elegant  without  being  pretentious :  a  central 
pearl,  surrounded  by  a  row  of  smaller  ones,  the 
whole  bordered  with  a  thin  line  of  black  enamel. 

Caroline  did  not  speak  for  a  moment;  if  she 
had  lifted  her  softly  darkening  eyes,  the  family 
might  have  seen  tears. 

"It  was  wonderful  of  her,"  she  said,  when  she 
could  find  voice. 

"And  are  you  not  going  to  look  at  my  engage- 
ment ring?"  Alison  asked.  "It  is  worth  seeing." 

She  held  out  a  slender  white  hand.  A  large 
golitaire  glistened  on  her  third  finger.  There 
were  more  exclamations.  Even  Doctor  Ravenel 
fished  for  his  glasses  and  had  a  look. 

Then  the  photograph  was  passed  around  for 
inspection.  May  re  and  her  mother  praised  the 
new  son-in-law-to-be.  "He  was  fine-looking,  alert, 
and  he  showed  race,"  they  thought. 

Caroline  said  nothing. 

"What  do  you  think,  honey?"  Alison  asked. 

"I  don't  know.  You  can't  tell  from  a  picture. 
I  would  rather  look  in  his  eyes  and  shake  hands 
before  I  judge.  By  the  way,  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
that  I  invited  the  neighbors  in  to  welcome  Alison 


ALISON  RETURNS  215 

home.  Mrs.  Ludlow  and  Blair,  the  Madame  and 
Alf  —  I  see  them  coming  now.  Oh,  Mother,  don't 
worry;  Maumy  knows,  she's  making  tea-cakes, 
and  I  told  her  to  cut  a  wee  bit  of  fruit  cake  and 
open  some  of  her  raspberry  shrub.  You  don't 
mind,  do  you?  This  is  an  occasion." 

"Abbie,  you  may  help  Maumy  serve,"  Alison 
said,  and  the  girl  went  toward  the  kitchen  obedi- 
ently. 

It  was  a  pleasant  half-hour  that  followed. 
Madame  Wakefield  seemed  duly  impressed  with 
Alison's  "finish,"  and  Mrs.  Ludlow  raved  in  her 
whole-hearted  way  about  her  general  improve- 
ment. "She  had  grown  so  —  changed  —  was 
really  handsomer  —  had  so  much  poise.  It  was 
a  shame  Jimmy  wasn't  at  home  to  extend  his  con- 
gratulations." 

Alison  talked  England  to  Madame  and  Alf 
(she  had  spent  three  weeks  in  London,  so  she 
knew  all  about  it), becoming  enthusiastic,  that  is, 
as  enthusiastic  as  good  manners  would  permit 
about  Paris  and  Vienna.  She  even  aired  a  knowl- 
edge of  pictures.  That  brought  her  to  the  re- 
mark : 

"And  by  the  way,  I  had  a  queer  notion  one 
night  at  a  party  that  I  saw  Great-aunt  Caroline. 
Cousin  Eliza  had  some  delightful  friends  who 
were  entertaining  us  at  dinner,  with  a  dance 
after.  This  old  lady,  looking  like  a  dowager 


216      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

empress,  strolled  in,  attended  by  two  servants. 
She  was  very  gouty  —  or  something,  I  forgot 
what  they  said,  but  at  any  rate  she  positively 
looked — Kirtley !  She  was  short,  round  and  stout, 
with  large  blue  eyes  dancing  with  mischief " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Madame  Wakefield,  I 
presume  Caroline  has  introduced  you  to  our  il- 
lustrious ancestor  —  Mrs.  Ludlow  knows  her." 
Alison  stopped  in  the  narrative  and  glanced  at 
the  portrait  in  the  hall. 

"As  I  was  saying  —  please  pardon  the  family 
history  —  her  eyes  danced  with  fun  and  spirit. 
And  she  was  literally  loaded  with  jewels:  my 
pearls — the  pearls  are  to  descend  to  me,  Madame 
Wakefield — hung  in  a  rope  about  her  short,  thick 
neck ;  oh,  really  absurd,  I  assure  you.  Her  fat, 
purplish  hands  were  crowded  with  rings:  dia- 
monds, emeralds,  turquoise  —  yes,  really  —  the 
most  execrable  taste!  I  remember  Lord  Algie 
Townsend,  who  was  sitting  next  to  me,  said  that 
she  always  wore  everything  but  the  kitchen  range 
—  and  her  dress " 

Alison  paused  for  breath,  and  Maumy  Rachel 
beckoned  to  Caroline. 

In  the  hall  the  negro's  voice  fell  to  a  fright- 
ened whisper. 

"Fer  the  love  of  Gord,  Missy,  git  Miss  Alison 
to  quit  that  clatter.  That  ole  lady  what-y'-may- 
call-'er's  gwine  have  a  fit  in  a  minute.  She 


ALISON  RETURNS  217 

gwine  throw  hit  right  here  in  the  drawin'-room. 
She's  as  purple  as  a  gobbler's  wattles  when  he's 
gittin'  ready  to  fight.  Lord  sake's  she's  English ! 
honey,  English !  Miss  Alison  she  done  stock  up 
on  manners  down  in  Richmon',  but  she's  pow'ful 
low  on  common  sense." 

Caroline  went  back.    Alison  still  talked : 

"Her  dress  really  was  the  funniest  of  all.  A 
dreadful  shade  of  green,  with  spangles  on  it, 
beads  or  something.  Over  her  huge  form  it  made 
one  think  of  the  ocean  rippling  —  spreading  — 
It  overflowed  her  chair,  billowed." 

"Alison,  will  you  come  to  the  telephone, 
please?"  Caroline  ventured. 

"In  a  moment,  dear." 

"And  her  tiny  little  feet.  Oh,  I  must  really 
tell  you  about  her  feet.  Kirtley  feet,  Mother, 
with  ridiculous,  high-arched  insteps  —  so  tiny 
that  when  she  walked  she  limped  painfully.  They 
weren't  large  enough  to  hold  her  up  —  they 
twinkled  under  the  green  skirt  like " 

Caroline  glanced  at  Madame  Wakefield. 

"Pardon  me,  Alison,"  she  said  politely,  "but 
I  think  perhaps  Mr.  Aurendel  would  like  to  know 
something  about  Barbara " 

Alison  made  her  excuses  prettily.  They  had 
reached  the  telephone  when  Caroline  said: 

"I  wanted  to  get  you  out  of  there.  You  are 
hurting  Madame  Wakefield's  feelings.  She  is 


218      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

English.  She  thinks  you  are  making  fun  of  her 
country  women ;  do  stop,  please !" 

Alison's  mask  dropped  for  a  minute. 

"Why,  the  silly  old  creature,"  she  said  irrit- 
ably. "How  utterly  absurd " 

But  she  went  back  and  spent  a  half-hour  prais- 
ing English  gardens,  English  country  homes  and 
English  hospitality.  Madame  Wakefield  recov- 
ered from  her  former  mood.  Her  eyes  became 
merry.  In  the  hall,  as  she  was  leaving,  she 
stopped  for  a  moment  before  Aunt  Caroline  and 
smiled  up  at  her. 

"So  you  think  she's  old  and  fat  and  wheezy, 
do  you,  Miss  Alison?  Well,  well,  I  dare  say  she 
is.  Asthmatic,  no  doubt  —  but  not  dowdy,  as 
you  Americans  say.  Never  that." 

"Never,"  Caroline  whispered. 

Madame  turned,  and  taking  Caroline's  small 
hand  in  her  own,  squeezed  it  warmly. 

"And  I  can't  see  those  blue  eyes  daring  a  green 
frock,  eh,  Caroline " 

"Oh,  no,  Madame." 

"Nor  ropes  of  pearls,  rings  and  miscellaneous 
jewels " 

For  some  reason  Alison  grew  pink  to  the  tips 
of  her  shell-like  ears,  and  Maumy  gathering  up 
the  cups  in  the  drawing-room,  leaned  sidewise 
to  catch  the  old  lady's  words,  not  alone  her 
words,  but  her  untranslatable  expression. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
MAUMY  HAS  A  SECRET 

THE  more  Caroline  saw  of  Madame  Wake- 
field,  the  better  she  liked  her.  And  her 
feeling  seemed  to  be  reciprocated,  for 
she  was  often  invited  to  The  Lodge;  not  only  to 
The  Lodge,  but  to  drive  in  the  elegant  closed 
car  that  defied  winter  winds;  to  tea  parties  in 
the  cheerful  sun  room;  best  of  all,  to  see  an 
occasional  play  or  a  light  opera. 

That  was  the  greatest  joy  of  all,  those  evenings 
in  Madame's  stall.  To  be  sure  she  sometimes 
felt  conspicuous,  for  Madame  always  insisted 
upon  sitting  back  (she  loved  to  watch  the  chang- 
ing emotions  in  her  young  guest's  face),  content 
to  view  the  stage  from  an  obscure  corner. 

Maumy  Rachel  also  liked  Madame  Wakefield. 
Negroes  are  intuitive.  They  are  not  always  able 
to  account  for  their  tastes,  but  they  are  seldom 
mistaken  or  imposed  upon. 

"What  is  it  you  like  about  her,  Maumy?"  Caro- 
line asked  one  Saturday  morning,  when  she  was 
helping  in  the  kitchen. 


220      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"Oh,  I  dunno,  Missy ;  I  jes'  nat'ally  admire  her 
ways.  She  ain't  no  English-born  and  riz !  No, 
ma'am!  I  got  a  hunch  she  was  brought  up  in 
Dixie.  Sometime  y'all  notice  how  she  talks — 
sof  and  low  and  full,  with  pretty  little  tricks  to 
her  words,  and  the  other  day  she  say  to  me  when 
I  passes  de  beaten  biscuit,  'Maumy,'  she  says, 
'I  ain't  et  «uch  biscuits  as  these  since  I  was  a 
little  girl/  an'  I  spoke  up  quick  an  says :  'Beckon 
you  must  have  lived  down  South  den,  Miz  Wake- 
field' » 

"You  should  have  said  Madame " 

"  'I  reckon  you  must  know  something  'bout 
Dixie  ef  you  like  beaten  biscuit  and  corn  pone.'  " 

"And  What  did  she  say?" 

"She  never  said  nothin',  but  her  red  cheeks  got 
redder,  an'  her  hand  shook  consi'ble  when  she 
swaller  her  tea.  Sometimes  I  got  a  feelin', " 

"What,  Maumy?" 

"Hungh?" 

"What  kind  of  a  feeling?" 

Maumy's  lips  became  a  straight  line. 

"Nothin'  I'se  gwine  tell,  honey.  Nothin'  I'se 
gwine  tell !" 

"Why  not?"  Caroline  begged. 

But  no  amount  of  coaxing  could  dislodge  the 
"feelin'." 

Early  November  found  the  family  busy  with 
plans  for  Alison's  wedding.  The  date  had  been 


MAUMY  HAS  A  SECRET       221 

set  for  early  January,  and,  although  the  greater 
part  of  the  trousseau  had  come  in  the  large 
trunks  from  Richmond,  there  were  the  innumer- 
able odds  and  ends  that  wear  the  nerves  of  a 
household  at  such  a  time. 

Leigh  became  a  little  whiter,  a  little  thinner. 
Often  she  walked  with  such  effort  that  Caroline 
threw  an  anxious  arm  about  her  and  helped  her 
climb  the  stairs.  Her  eyes  held  starry  visions, 
and  sometimes,  as  they  gazed  on  Alison,  they 
filled  with  tears. 

One  night  after  the  others  had  retired,  Caro- 
line crossed  the  hall  in  slippers  and  kimono  and 
perched  herself  on  Leigh's  cozy  couch. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you,  Sister,"  she  said,  "and 
I  don't  want  you  to  get  angry,  will  you?" 

"Why  should  I  be  angry,  darling?" 

"Because  I  am  going  to  be  terribly  personal 
and  say  things  that  will  shock  you.  First  of  all, 
I  am  going  to  ask  you  something  right  straight 
out.  Do  you  love  Blair  —  and  does  he  love 
you?" 

Leigh  caught  her  breath  quickly.  She  tried 
to  laugh. 

"Absurd  child,"  she  said  and  patted  Caroline's 
brown  head. 

"Tell  me.     I  want  to  know." 

"Well,  dear,  if  I  were  stronger  —  and  Mother 
didn't  need  me  so,  I  might  — yes  —  I  might  think 


222      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

of  him  in  that  way.  We  are  so  congenial.  We 
like  so  many  of  the  same  things " 

"I  knew  it.  Leigh,  now  I  am  going  to  shock 
you  —  don't  jump,  or  scold  until  I  finish.  Moth- 
er's got  to  wake  up  —  and  I've  got  to  do  the  wak- 
ing." 

"Caroline !"  The  word  came  with  a  gasp.  The 
thought  was  blasphemous. 

"She's  been  asleep  ever  since  you  were  born. 
Maumy  took  care  of  you  until  you  were  old 
enough  to  take  care  of  the  rest  of  us.  Mother  — 
well  —  Mother,  —  bless  her  she  doesn't  realize, 
just  handed  over  her  responsibilities.  I  didn't  un- 
derstand when  I  was  little.  It's  only  lately  that 
I've  begun  to  think  about  it  —  figure  it  all  out. 
Mother's  got  to  be  jarred " 

"Caroline,  I  forbid  you  to  say  another  word." 

"You  can't.  It  is  too  late.  I've  said  it,  haven't 
I?  When  this  wedding  is  over,  I  am  going  to 
talk  with  her " 

"Go  to  bed,  dear.  It  is  very  late  and  I  must 
be  up  early  in  the  morning." 

"Some  morning  you  won't  be  able  to  get  up, 
Sister." 

"Nonsense." 

"It  is  true.  You  are  getting  thinner  and 
thinner." 

"Good  night,  darling." 

"Oh,  I  am  going;  you  needn't  push  me.     You 


MAUMY  HAS  A  SECRET      223 

know  what  they  used  to  say  when  I  was  little: 
if  I  once  got  an  idea  in  my  head " 

"Get  it  out,  Caroline." 

"I  will  —  don't  worry !  Sweet  dreams."  She 
reached  down  (Leigh  had  dropped  on  the  couch) 
and  took  the  wan  face  between  her  cool  brown 
hands.  "I  love  you,  dear.  If  I  should  live  to  be 
a  million  I  couldn't  pay  you " 

But  Leigh  had  buried  her  face  in  the  soft 
cushion  and  was  weeping  softly. 

Caroline  tiptoed  out.  "I  am  glad  she's  taking 
time  to  cry,"  she  mumbled,  when  she  had  closed 
her  own  door.  "It  will  do  her  good.  Dear,  dear 
Leigh.  What  would  we  do  without  her?" 

She  sat  at  her  window,  staring  into  the  night 
for  some  time.  "I  suppose  I  am  presumptuous," 
she  thought,  "to  try  to  tell  Mother  —  but  Leigh 
must  have  her  happiness.  I  could  help  Father, 
if  only  Mother  would  manage  the  house,  see  to 
the  buying  and  the  servants.  But  I  can't  do  it 
all,  not  with  my  lessons. —  Mayre  isn't  much  good 
with  her  drawing  and  her  daydreams,  though  she 
dusts  beautifully.  Maumy  is  giving  out  —  she's 
old — she  ought  not  to  work  so  hard  at  her  age." 

Difficulties  did  seem  to  be  multiplying. 

"Don't  you  really  think  we  should  have  an 
extra  maid  during  these  busy  days,  Mother?" 
Alison  asked  one  morning. 

"Yes,  we  should,  dear,  but  Leigh  tells  me  that 


224      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

collections  are  very  slow.  I  don't  know  why, 
but  people  always  pay  their  physicians  after 
everything  else  has  been  settled,  —  the  butcher, 
the  baker,  the  candlestick  maker."  Her  laugh 
was  mirthless. 

"But  for  just  a  month,  dear;  you  see,  Cousin 
Eliza  has  done  so  much  there  will  be  little  ex- 
pense, except  for  the  wedding " 

"Your  father  wishes  you  to  have  all  that  is 
necessary.  He  spoke  of  it  to  me  this  morning." 

"Then  let  us  have  another  maid,  Mother.  I 
need  Abbie,  with  so  much  entertaining  going  on, 
and  besides,  after  all,  she  is  really  a  lady's  maid 
not  a  second  girl." 

A  few  days  later  a  young  "western  darky"  was 
installed.  Maumy's  face  hardened. 

"I  don't  'prove  of  these  here  western  sisters  of 
mine,"  she  complained  to  Caroline.  "They's  too 
uppidy;  they  don't  know  their  place." 

Caroline  had  ample  time  to  study  her  beautiful 
elder  sister  during  those  fleeting,  care-filled  days, 
often  marvelling  at  her  ease  and  light-hearted- 
ness. 

Alison  always  breakfasted  in  bed.  Abbie  took 
up  a  cup  of  coffee  and  a  roll  at  eight  o'clock.  She 
called  it  a  Continental  breakfast.  At  eleven  there 
was  usually  something  more:  a  poached  egg  on 
toast,  or  a  couple  of  Maumy's  wonderful  flannel 
cakes  with  maple  syrup.  Alison  never  ate  lunch ; 


MAUMY  HAS  A  SECRET       225 

she  dieted  between  twelve  and  tea-time.  Some- 
times, when  she  was  invited  out,  as  she  was  often 
at  present,  she  broke  this  rule,  but  never  at  home. 

At  noon  she  rose  and  read  the  latest  novel 
while  Abbie  polished  her  nails  or  curled  her  hair. 
Sometimes  in  the  afternoon,  between  teas  and 
dinners,  she  whipped  lace  on  dainty  lingerie  or 
initialed  linen,  which  she  had  learned  to  do 
beautifully,  or  wrote  long  letters  to  Tevis  Mc- 
Elroy.  Three  years  of  luxury  had  made  a  sybar- 
ite of  her. 

Occasionally  she  ran  an  anxious  finger  across 
Leigh's  troubled  forehead. 

"You  mustn't  frown  so,  darling,"  she  would 
say,  her  fragrant,  rosy  finger  deep  in  the  tell- 
tale line,  "it  makes  you  old  and  unattractive. 
You  really  should  rub  cold  cream  on  your  face. 
Take  a  half-hour  for  it  and  see  what  a  difference 
it  makes.  I  will  send  Abbie  down  some  night." 

But  Abbie  never  came;  her  hours  were  filled  to 
overflowing. 

"Alison  doesn't  belong  to  our  family  any 
more,"  Caroline  thought,  noting  varied  exhi- 
bitions of  selfishness.  "She's  like  —  like  an 
orchid  —  set  in  a  bouquet  of  violets.  She  over- 
tops up.  But  I  like  violets  better  —  they  are 
sweeter." 

Sometimes  she  spoke  to  Leigh  about  it,  but 
Leigh  always  said : 


226      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"It  is  so  easy  to  become  spoiled,  dear,  and  I 
dare  say  we  would,  too,  if  we  were  beautiful  and 
petted;  besides,  we  must  remember  that  Cousin 
Eliza  lost  her  only  child  and  has  showered  affec- 
tion upon  Alison.  We  must  not  be  too  critical." 

That  was  like  Leigh;  always  excusing,  cover- 
ing up,  hiding  faults  and,  if  possible,  discovering 
virtues. 

Christmas  passed  in  a  hazy  blur.  If  it  had  not 
been  for  Madame  Wakefield's  kindness,  it  is 
doubtful  whether  the  day  would  have  been  ob- 
served at  all.  She  invited  the  family  for  dinner. 
Even  Maumy  Rachel  and  Abbie  were  included, 
a  special  table  having  been  provided  in  a  corner 
of  the  spacious  kitchen.  There  were  gifts  for  all 
—  unpretentious  things  that  carried  no  obliga- 
tion—  and  later  in  the  evening  there  was  the 
usual  Christmas  supper  before  Doctor  RavenePs 
wide  hearth,  where  Madame,  Alfred,  and  Blair 
gathered  with  the  family.  Maumy  fairly  outdid 
herself  on  her  creamy  chocolate  and  baked  Vir- 
ginia ham. 

"I  am  beginning  to  feel  as  if  Madame  were 
almost  a  relative,"  Caroline  said  to  Maumy,  as 
she  buttered  sandwiches  and  cut  cake. 

Maumy  turned  her  face  to  hide  a  smile. 

"Why  do  you  laugh,  Maumy?" 

"Can't  a  pusson  smile,  honey,  if  they  wants 
to?" 


MAUMY  HAS  A  SECRET       227 

"I  don't  see  anything  to  laugh  at  in  that  re- 
mark." 

"You  don't  know  all  dat's  gwine  'on  down  in 
the  bottom  of  my  mine,  lammie,  that's  all.  My 
ole  gray  matter,  hits  on  de  rampage  lately;  hits 
ben  recomemberin,  and  'vestigatin'  an' " 

She  broke  off,  and  then  went  on : 

"I'se  gettin'  ole,  Missy  —  ole !  When  you  begin 
livin'  in  the  past,  why,  that's  a  sure  sign  —  sure 
as  death !  I  been  thinkin'  a  heap  'bout  yer  Great- 
grandmaw  Kirtley  lately,  and  her  fam'bly " 

"Do  you  remember  them  all,  Maumy?" 

"Does  I  'member  'em?  For  de  Lawd  sake! 
Do  you  spose  you'se  ever  gwine  to  ferget  yer 
Paw  or  yer  Maw  or  Miss  Leigh  or  little  Miss 
Hope?  I  wonder,  now !  Kun  'long  in  with  this 
yere  choc'late,  an'  don't  tip  the  pitcher.  Ef  you 
do,  it's  gwine  spill  and  ruin  yer  frock.  I  done 
fill  it  up  full." 

And  Caroline  went  into  the  drawing-room, 
wondering  if  Maumy  really  were  in  her  dotage. 

A  few  days  after  Christmas  Alison  brought  an 
open  letter  to  Leigh. 

"Cousin  Eliza  writes  that  she  will  be  here  the 
day  after  New  Year,"  she  said.  "I  am  wonder- 
ing where  we  had  best  put  her.  Perhaps  Mayre 
would  move  over  with  Caroline  until  after  the 
wedding.  Sophie  could  have  a  cot  in  Abbie's 
room  upstairs."  Sophie  was  Cousin  Eliza's  maid. 


228      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"I  think  we  can  arrange  it,"  Leigh  answered, 
and  the  line  in  her  forehead  deepened. 

"Of  course  Tevis's  family  will  go  to  the  hotel. 
I  must  speak  with  Father  about  engaging  a 
suite  for  them  immediately." 

The  days  following  were  so  crowded  that  Leigh 
and  Caroline  went  to  bed  too  weary  to  sleep. 
Alison  kept  up  a  round  of  teas,  dinners  and 
dances.  The  word  had  gone  forth  that  she  was 
marrying  into  one  of  Richmond's  wealthiest 
families,  and  society  paid  homage.  Mayre  was 
often  included  in  the  invitations,  but  she  made 
excuses  when  possible. 

Mrs.  Ravenel  reveled  in  her  daughter's  popu- 
larity. She  spent  hours  in  the  guest  room  look- 
ing over  Alison's  lovely  things,  handling  rare 
bits  of  lace  and  convent-embroidered  linen,  ex- 
amining imported  frocks,  bewitching  hats,  wraps 
and  accessories.  The  brilliant  future  that 
stretched  ahead  of  her  handsome  daughter  re- 
paid her  a  thousandfold  for  the  loneliness  she 
had  endured  in  her  long  absence. 

"It  was  a  wonderful  piece  of  good  fortune  — 
our  sending  Alison  to  Cousin  Eliza,"  she  said 
one  evening  to  her  husband. 

Doctor  Ravenel  did  not  reply  at  once. 

"That  remains  to  be  seen,"  he  remarked,  after 
the  moment's  silence.  "I  sincerely  hope  so." 

"But,  Doctor,  her  marrying  into  the  McElroy 


MAUMY  HAS  A  SECRET       229 

family  is  a  positive  guarantee."  Mrs.  Bavenel 
was  often  naive  in  her  deductions. 

"There  is  no  guarantee  in  marriage,  Emily, 
except  fidelity  —  personal  obligation  —  the  duty 
of  one  individual  toward  the  other.  And  with 
so  much  money " 

"Surely  you  do  not  object  to  the  money?" 

"Without  it,  I  should  feel  greater  safety  in 
her  future." 

Mrs.  KaveneFs  sigh  was  lost  on  her  husband. 
He  was  too  deep  in  thought. 

The  arrival  of  Cousin  Eliza  was  something  of 
an  occasion  in  the  family.  Mayre's  room  had 
been  cleaned  and  refurnished  with  the  best  the 
house  afforded.  After  the  day's  routine,  Leigh 
had  made  the  pretty,  ruffled  curtains  that  hung 
at  the  windows,  covered  the  sofa  pillows,  fresh- 
ened table  covers  and  bureau  scarfs.  The  effect 
was  all  that  could  be  desired. 

"We  can  give  Cousin  Eliza  one  thing  that  she 
can't  get  at  home,"  Mayre  said,  glancing  through 
the  window.  "That  view  of  the  Peak." 

She  stood  for  a  moment  looking  out  on  the  old 
mountain. 

Caroline  had  drawn  a  mental  picture  of  Cousin 
Eliza.  She  expected  to  see  a  queenly  woman  with 
a  beneficent  face  crowned  by  snow-white  hair. 

Her  first  view  of  the  stranger  relative  quite 
stunned  her.  Cousin  Eliza  was  small;  almost 


230      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

wizened.  Her  thin  little  face  was  pitifully  lined, 
her  blue  eyes  sad  and  wistful.  Her  black  hair 
(a  very  suspicious  black)  hardened  features  that 
nature  had  intended  to  be  kind.  Caroline  noticed 
that  at  once.  She  had  a  positive  genius  for  find- 
ing discarded  virtues. 

But  her  voice,  like  the  voices  of  all  true 
Southerners,  was  deep  and  rich;  it  was  cordial, 
too,  with  a  most  appealing  sincerity.  Caroline 
felt  it. 

"And  this  is  little  Caroline,"  she  said,  and 
kissed  her,  though  they  were  still  on  the  railway 
platform,  and  the  habit  was  not  followed  in  the 
best  society.  "And  Leigh  and  Mayre.  Emily 
dear,  and  Doctor,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you  all. 
This  is  indeed  a  pleasure." 

The  day  had  scarcely  passed  before  Cousin 
Eliza  was  one  of  the  family.  She  was  extremely 
adaptable:  she  loved  the  house,  her  room  —  and 
yes,  she  thought  in  time  she  would  love  the  moun- 
tains, but  at  present  they  terrified  her,  they  were 
so  enormous. 

"Many  people  feel  that  way  at  first,"  Caroline 
explained,  "but  when  you  get  up  into  the  heart 
of  them  and  see  how  friendly  they  are — now  gen- 
erous with  their  flowers  and  canons  and  water- 
falls ;  when  you  see  the  Peak  at  sunset,  with  his 
rainbow  shawl  over  his  shoulders " 

"Why,  the  child's  a  poet,"  Cousin  Eliza  said, 


MAUMY  HAS  A  SECRET       231 

and  gave  her  another  kiss.  Caroline  returned  it 
warmly. 

That  evening,  ,when  the  family  were  lingering 
over  tea,  Caroline  beckoned  to  Cousin  Eliza: 

"Come  up  in  my  tower  room,"  she  whispered 
softly.  "Please.  I  want  to  show  him  to  you 
in  all  his  glory  —  the  Peak." 

Cousin  Eliza  curled  up  on  the  cushioned  seat 
much  as  a  child  would  have  done.  There  is  an 
advantage  in  being  small,  after  all. 

Caroline  drew  up  the  old  desk  chair. 

"In  just  a  moment,"  she  said ;  "the  fairies  are 
bringing  out  his  robes.  I  want  you  to  see  him 
at  his  best,  because  —  wrell  —  because  he  is  all 
we  have  to  give  you." 

Cousin  Eliza's  blue  eyes  filled  and  overflowed. 

When  the  brilliant  sunset  colors  had  faded, 
Caroline's  whisper  broke  the  silence : 

"Now  you  are  going  to  see  him  at  his  prayers, 
Cousin  Eliza.  Look  at  his  halo  —  that's  the  after- 
glow. How  transparent  the  tints  are  this  even- 
ing, the  lavenders,  blues  and  rose.  This  is  hush 
time  —  when  everything  stops." 

Caroline  stopped  also  —  and  turned  away  her 
head.  Hush  time  brought  poignant  memories, 
though  she  still  loved  it. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

A]  iWEDDING 

THE  wedding  was  to  occur  on  Saturday 
evening  at  eight  o'clock.  Tevis  McEl- 
roy  and  his  family  arrived  at  noon  on 
Thursday. 

"Tevis  has  never  ueen  West,"  Alison  said  to 
Blair.  "I  hope  that  you  will  be  good  enough  to 
show  him  something  of  the  country.  We  shall 
be  very  busy  these  last  few  days." 

Blair  graciously  accepted  the  responsibility, 
and  Mrs.  Ludlow,  always  generous,  offered  her 
horses  and  motors. 

Caroline,  much  to  her  amazement,  was  asked 
to  accompany  Alison  to  the  train. 

Her  first  glimpse  of  her  new  brother-in-law 
was  disappointing.  He  was  much  smaller  than 
his  photograph  led  one  to  believe,  and  he  lacked 
the  alertness  that  Mayre  and  her  mother  had  com- 
mented upon.  However,  after  she  had  shaken 
hands  with  him  and  looked  into  his  pleasant  gray 
eyes  she  felt  reassured.  Looks  mattered  very 
little  if  one  had  personality,  and  this  Tevis  Mc- 
Elroy  had. 


A  WEDDING  233 

And  she  liked  his  father  (Caroline  had  decided 
likes  and  dislikes,  and  was  seldom  mistaken )  and 
Alice,  a  fair,  wide-awake  girl  of  nineteen,  alive 
with  enthusiasm.  Of  the  mother  she  was  not  so 
sure.  She  seemed  rather  haughty  and  over- 
powering. 

"We  are  going  to  take  you  to  the  hotel  now 
and  let  you  rest  for  a  few  hours  (it  was  then 
noon)  and  at  four  o'clock  we  shall  come  for  you," 
Alison  said,  after  she  had  greeted  the  family  and 
shaken  hands  with  Tevis.  There  was  not  the 
slightest  demonstration  between  them.  Alison 
might  have  been  greeting  Jimmy  or  Blair,  even 
Punny  Matthews,  except  that  her  face  flushed 
to  a  delicate  pink,  and  her  eyes  (at  first  Caroline 
thought  they  warmed,  but  she  afterward  doubted 
it)  reflected  pride. 

Later  in  the  day  she  had  Tevis  to  herself  for 
fifteen  or  twenty  minutes.  She  was  rather  in- 
terested in  his  conversation,  which  was  exceed- 
ingly complimentary,  a  little  too  complimentary, 
she  thought,  on  such  short  acquaintance,  but  still 
—  he  was  soon  to  be  one  of  the  family  and  she 
forgave  him.  It  was  rather  nice,  after  all,  to  be 
told  that  one  was  happy  to  come  into  such  a 
delightful  family,  to  contemplate  a  friendship 
with  so  attractive  a  "little  sister." 

But  there  was  little  time  for  conversation.  The 
house  seemed  very  noisy  and  upset ;  the  doorbell 


234      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

rang  constantly.  Abbie,  Sophie  and  the  new 
maid  fluttered  about,  bringing  in  parcels,  carry- 
ing packages  upstairs,  admitting  visitors. 

"Seem  lak  Bed'lum  done  let  loose  here," 
Maumy  complained.  "Lord  save  me  from  any 
more  of  these  big  blo'outs!  I'se  plum  tuckered 
out." 

"Go  to  bed,  and  I  will  clean  up  the  kitchen," 
Caroline  begged. 

"Go  to  bed  —  to  bed !  With  all  them  folks  a- 
comin'  to  dinner  to-night.  Miss  Caroline,  you 
done  talk  crazy !" 

"I  reckon  I  do ;  I  feel  sort  of  loony,"  Caroline 
admitted  and  went  to  silence  the  clamoring  tele- 
phone. 

Friday  was  no  better,  except  that  the  excite- 
ment lifted  the  household  above  worn  nerves. 
The  presents  were  arriving.  Abbie  stood  at  the 
front  door  and  gathered  them  in:  express  pack- 
ages, flowers,  china  and  silver  —  even  furniture. 
Such  an  arrayf 

Caroline  offered  to  move  to  the  tower  and  clear 
her  bedroom  for  the  wedding  gifts.  Mayre  ar- 
ranged the  tables  and  put  out  the  presents. 

Maumy  shook  her  head  as  she  viewed  them. 

"Somepin  wrong  with  this  here  ole  worP,"  she 
grumbled.  "Miss  Alison,  she's  marryin'  into  a 
family  dat's  already  got  more'n  it  knows  what  to 
'do  with,  then  along  comes  all  this  stuff.  But  I 


A  WEDDING  235 

reckon  Lit  all  evens  up  in  the  end.  De  poor  man 
he  gits  his  ice  in  the  winter  an'  the  rich  man  in 
the  summer  —  Good  Lord,  here  comes  some  more, 
honey." 

"I  will  call  Alison,"  Mayre  said.  "She  likes 
to  see  them  first." 

"This  here  package  was  brung  by  a  messenger 
boy,"  Abbie  said.  "He  told  me  to  put  it  into 
Miss  Alison's  own  hands." 

"And  into  my  own  it  shall  go,  Abbie,"  Alison 
answered,  quietly  entering  the  room. 

There  was  a  hushed  silence  while  she  un- 
wrapped the  parcel,  broken  only  by  Maumy's, 
"De  biggest  gif  s  is  always  in  de  li'Pst  package. 
I  specs  it's  somepin  fine,  Miss  Alison !" 

Alison  opened  the  purple  velvet  box  —  a  very 
worn  box  —  frayed  a  bit  at  the  edges.  She  gave 
a  little  gasp. 

"Girls  —  why  —  why  —  it's  a  strand  of  pearls. 
Pearls !  The  thing  I  have  always  coveted.  Tevis 
must  have  sent  it.  There  seems  to  be  no  card 
with  it." 

She  took  the  treasure  from  its  ancient  bed  and 
ran  the  beads  through  her  hands. 

"They  are  heirlooms,  wherever  they  came 
from,"  she  said,  laying  them  against  her  Cheek 
in  a  caress.  "Oh,  the  lovely  things!  Look  at 
them,  Maumy.  Did  you  ever  see  anything  so 
beautiful?" 


236      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"You  know  what  they  mean,  Miss  Alison?" 
the  old  servant  asked.  Her  tone  was  ominous. 

"No —  what  do  they  mean?" 

"Tears,  honey." 

"Oh,  Maumy,  how  dreadful  to  tell  her  that," 
Mayre  cried.  "Alison's  going  to  have  everything 
in  the  world." 

"Nobody  has  everything,  Missy/' 

"Well,  money  can  buy  most  everything,"  Ali- 
son flung  impatiently. 

"Money  don't  always  buy  happiness,  lammie, 
though  old  Maumy  hopes  —  hopes  you  have  it  — 
you  have  her  prayers  and  her  blessin'." 

In  after  years  Alison  thought  of  the  remark 
when  she  wound  the  precious  heirloom  about  her 
lovely  throat. 

Tevis  came  in  a  few  minutes  later,  and  Alison, 
with  a  flushed  and  happy  face,  began  to  thank 
him. 

"But  I  didn't  send  them,"  he  insisted.  "Really 
I  did  not.  Here  is  my  gift,  Alison." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  another  velvet  box. 
Alison  opened  it  eagerly.  A  unique  diamond 
ornament  lay  sparkling  in  the  morning  sun. 

"Tevis!    How  dear  of  you!    What  is  it?" 

"Sort  of  a  modernized  tiara,  I  reckon,"  he  said. 
"You  may  name  it." 

Alison  slipped  down  on  the  old  Kirtley  sofa, 
and  her  face  paled. 


A  WEDDING  237 

"Tevis,"  she  said,  "it  frightens  me  a  little  — 
I  feel  —  as  Maumy  says  —  spooky!  All  during 
my  childhood  I  wished  for  a  pearl  necklace  and 
a  diamond  tiara  and  now  —  here " 

"I  told  you  the  fairies  attended  your  birth; 
they  heard  —  no  doubt." 

And  since  they  were  alone  in  the  drawing-room 
and  there  was  no  one  to  see,  Alison's  fiance 
stooped  and  gave  her  a  kiss. 

"But  who  did  send  the  pearls?"  Alison  in- 
quired a  little  later. 

"Wasn't  there  a  card?" 

"No  —  we  saw  none." 

"Abbie  must  have  dropped  it." 

"No  —  she  said  a  messenger  brought  the  box  — 
there  was  no  card  with  it." 

"Then  you  dropped  it  with  the  wrappings." 

This  seemed  plausible,  and  a  search  was  im- 
mediately begun. 

"Maumy  took  the  papers  down  to  the  kitchen 
to  burn,"  Mayre  said,  after  they  had  looked  in 
every  nook  and  corner.  "Perhaps  the  card  was 
among  them." 

Tevis  hurried  to  the  kitchen.  Maumy  was 
putting  the  last  scrap  of  paper  in  the  range. 
Every  clew  was  lost. 

"It  makes  me  almost  ill,"  Alison  said,  "and 
after  what  Maumy  told  me  about  pearls " 

"For    goodness'    sake,"    Caroline    exclaimed, 


238      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"you  aren't  going  to  worry  over  Maumy's  silly 
superstitions,  are  you?" 

"I  suppose  I  am  a  little  tired  and  nervous," 
Alison  admitted.  "I  think  I  shall  rest  for  a 

while.     I  mustn't  look  worn   for  my  wedding 

?> 

Immediately  the  household  suggested  a  dark- 
ened room  and  one  of  Abbie's  fine  massages. 

Caroline  was  tired,  too,  but  she  found  no  time 
to  rest. 

"I  think,  since  you  are  the  maid  of  honor,  you 
should  also  be  lying  down,"  Leigh  thoughtfully 
suggested. 

There  had  been  some  discussion  as  to  the 
bridesmaids  —  a  church  wedding  at  night  meant 
more  or  less  display.  Alison  talked  the  matter 
over  in  a  businesslike  way. 

"Of  course  I  must  have  Tevis's  sister  and  at 
least  one  of  my  own.  It  would  scarcely  be  suit- 
able to  have  Leigh " 

Leigh's  thin  little  form  and  noticeably  curved 
back  rose  before  Mrs.  RaveneFs  tender  eyes. 

"No  —  dear;  Leigh  would  not  consider  it  for 
a  moment." 

"And  Mayre  is  short;  She  wouldn't  measure 
up  with  Barbara  or  Alice.  So  I  suppose  it  must 
be  Caroline.  She  will  be  lovely  in  a  pale  yellow 
gown  frilled  to  the  waist.  Fortunately  she's  a 
Ravenel;  they  never  have  an  ounce  too  much 


A  WEDDING  239 

flesh  and  can  wear  frills.  I  suppose  we  can  de- 
pend upon  her.  She  seems  more  reliable " 

"Caroline  still  has  her  own  ideas " 

"Yes,  but  she  is  dependable.  That  is,  she 
wouldn't  disgrace  us  as  of  old." 

"Caroline's  good  taste  is  scarcely  to  be  ques- 
tioned." 

"How  the  child  has  changed!  Tevis  thinks 
her  quite  a  beauty,  and  Mayre  certainly  under- 
stands dressing  her.  Yes;  I  think  we  shall  de- 
cide on  Caroline  as  maid  of  honor." 

If  Caroline  had  known  that  she  was  selected 
by  elimination  rather  than  by  choice,  she  would 
never  have  accepted  the  honor.  As  it  was,  she 
felt  complimented  and  happy. 

The  wedding  day  dawned  cold  and  bright: 
one  of  those  clear  Colorado  days  when  the  sun 
shines  in  an  open  sky  with  belying  warmth  — 
Alison's  own  day  —  analogous  to  her  nature. 
There  was  the  same  semblance  of  perfection,  the 
unsuspected  chill. 

Alison  did  not  rise  until  late  in  the  afternoon. 
The  family  (even  Mrs.  Ravenel)  had  begun  the 
day  a  little  after  dawn.  There  was  still  much 
to  be  done :  the  house  straightened  for  the  recep- 
tion in  the  evening ;  belated  presents  to  arrange ; 
forgotten  errands,  —  endless  last-minute  affairs 
that  take  time  and  patience. 

By  four  o'clock  the  house  had  resumed  its 


240      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

normal  quiet.  Alison's  packing  was  done  (the 
honeymoon  was  to  be  spent  in  California) ;  the 
wedding  gown  laid  out,  the  white  satin  slippers 
and  snowy  veil  beside  it. 

Caroline  wandered  about  the  house  restlessly, 
haunting  the  gift  room  to  exclaim  over  new 
wonders,  then  on  to  the  drawing-room  to  dream 
for  a  moment  before  the  wood  fire,  then  up  to  the 
tower.  Her  small  feet,  still  impudent  and  irre- 
sistible, twinkled  over  the  bare  floors,  the  stairs, 
Maumy's  kitchen. 

"You  ought  to  be  takin'  some  res'  y'self, 
honey,"  the  old  woman  said. 

"Best !  Maumy !  Who  could  rest  on  a  day  like 
this?  I  am  so  excited  I  can't  think." 

"Ca'm  y'self,  lammie.  You  don't  want  to  make 
no  blunders  to-night.  You  got  yo'  part  all 
learnt?  What  you  have  to  do?" 

"Of  course!  The  rehearsal  went  beautifully 
last  night.  When  the  minister  says,  'Who 

giveth  this  woman  to  be  married  to  this  man ' 

oh,  no,  that's  Major's  part.  Mercy!  Wouldn't 
it  be  awful  if  I  should  step  up  there  and  begin 
to  take  off  Alison's  glove " 

"I'm  tellin'  you,  honey!  You  got  to  be  keer- 
ful!" 

"It  is  after  Alison  says  I  take  thee  M  to  be 
my  wedded  husband " 

"M?    Who's  M?"    Maumy  looked  startled. 


A  WEDDING  241 

"That's  what  it  says  in  the  prayer  book.  She 
says  Tevis,  of  course.  I'm  just  thinking  how  it 
goes.  Then  Blair  gives  Tevis  the  ring,  and  I 
take  her  flowers  and  slip  off  her  glove " 

Here  the  merry  feet  began  an  exhilarating 
patter  on  the  worn  linoleum,  and  Maumy,  rais- 
ing her  gingham  apron,  waved  her  from  the 
kitchen. 

"Go  'long  now,"  she  called  after  her,  "an'  don't 
you  be  thinkin'  up  no  debiPment  to  perp-trate 
on  yer  sister." 

Of  course  there  was  no  dinner.  Who  could 
dine  under  such  circumstances?  Leigh  carried 
a  tray  into  the  office,  and  her  father  ate  frugally 
of  chicken  sandwiches  and  cold  tongue. 

"You  must  find  time  to  rest,  Leigh,"  he  said, 
shaking  his  head  at  her  tired  face. 

"After  to-night,  Father.  I  shall  stay  in  bed 
to-morrow  if  Maumy  can  spare  me."  It  was 
always  Maumy  —  not  Mother. 

"I  insist  that  you  do.  Let  Caroline  help  — 
and  May  re." 

"They  have  both  been  wonderful." 

For  two  hours  before  the  wedding  Alison's 
door  was  locked  and  guarded. 

"Let  no  one  come  in,  Sophie,"  she  demanded, 
for  it  had  taken  the  services  of  both  Sophie  and 
Abbie  to  dress  the  bride.  "I  must  not  get 
nervous.  My  face  is  apt  to  look  like  a  dairy- 


242      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

maid's  when  I  am  excited.  Too  much  color  is 
such  an  annoyance  -r-  and  so  plebeian." 

But  when  the  family  did  glimpse  the  stately 
form  in  wedding  garb,  they  stepped  back  and 
drew  ecstatic  "Oh's"  of  satisfaction. 

Alison  was  perfect  from  the  crown  of  her  filmy 
veil,  that  her  great-grandmother  had  worn,  to 
the  soles  of  her  exquisitely  shod  feet. 

"Turn  around,"  Caroline  demanded.  "I  want 
to  see  the  train." 

"We  can't  let  the  train  down  now,  dear,  and 
don't  come  quite  so  closely,  please.  There  —  you 
can  see  better  if  you  stand  a  little  off.  Mother 
dear,  I  should  like  to  kiss  you,  but  Abbie  has  put 
on  the  last  bit  of  powder " 

Caroline's  small  fists  clinched  behind  her, 
though  she  held  her  tongue  valiantly. 

"I  think  it's  a  shame  Tevis  can't  see  you;  he 
won't  have  half  a  chance  in  the  church,"  she 
said. 

"Caroline!  Tevis  come  here  —  to  the  house! 
How  dreadful.  Think  what  you  are  saying." 

"Excruciating,  isn't  it,  that  the  man  who's 
going  to  be  your  life  partner  in  a  half  hour 
should  look  at  you  first  in  your  bridal •. " 

Leigh  stopped  the  sentence  with  a  gentle  hand. 

"How  wonderful  the  pearls  look,"  she  said, 
"and  how  dreadful  we  can't  find  out  who  sent 
them." 


A  WEDDING  243 

"Perhaps  I  really  shouldn't  wear  them " 

"They  might  be  loaded  or  something  —  you 
know  rich  people  have  so  many  enemies,"  the 
maid  of  honor  suggested. 

Alison  raised  her  hand  to  remove  them,  but 
she  thought  better  of  it;  they  were  very  becom- 
ing. 

"Caroline,  your  imagination  is  a  positive 
curse,"  she  declared,  turning  for  a  last  glance  in 
the  mirror. 

The  reflection  must  have  satisfied  her,  for  she 
smiled :  and  it  was  a  beautiful  picture  —  one  long 
to  be  remembered :  a  slender  figure  a  little  above 
medium  height  in  a  white  satin  gown  with  a  long 
square  train,  her  corsage  draped  with  old  point 
lace.  A  veil,  falling  from  the  back  of  a  charm- 
ing coiffure,  was  draped  in  cap  fashion  over  her 
hair  and  held  with  two  narrow  bands  of  orange 
blossoms  across  her  forehead,  the  lace  falling  in 
billows  to  the  end  of  the  long  train.  The  dia- 
mond ornament  —  Tevis'  gift  —  followed  the  line 
of  orange  blossoms,  glittering  and  gleaming 
above  soft  waves  of  hair.  In  her  arms  she  held 
her  bouquet  with  its  streamers  of  ribbon  and 
tulle,  —  lilies  of  the  valley  and  feathery]  .white 
orchids. 

"I  think  you  are  the  most  beautiful  bride  I 
ever  saw,  and  I  am  going  to  kiss  you  whether 
you  like  it  or  not,"  Caroline  said,  when  she 


244      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

came  out  of  the  spell  Alison  had  cast  upon  them 
all. 

She  leaned  over  and  gave  the  caress  heartily. 
Abbie  instantly  covered  the  spot  with  powder. 

"You  are  so  demonstrative,  darling,"  Alison 
murmured,  but  she  seemed  pleased.  The  compli- 
ment had  not  failed  to  reach  her,  though  she  dis- 
liked demonstrations. 

Caroline  never  could  quite  recall  the  church 
as  it  looked  that  night.  She  had  a  hazy  vision 
of  cathedral  candles  entwined  with  flowers  and 
ferns  that  formed  an  aisle  for  the  bridal  party ; 
an  altar  abloom  with  white  chrysanthemums  and 
lighted  by  many  tapers  in  high,  branching 
candlesticks. 

It  was  the  low,  enchanting  music  that  went 
with  her  down  through  the  weeks  and  months 
that  followed ;  the  entrancing  call  of  the  wedding 
march.  She  remembered  lifting  her  feet  slowly, 
rhythmically,  or  she  tried  to  lift  them  rhythm- 
ically; the  time  was  so  peculiarly  marked  that 
she  felt  she  was  dragging  them.  And  She  re- 
called watching  the  procession;  she  had  met 
Blair  at  the  chancel  and  turned  so  that  the  view 
was  sweeping,  though  she  knew  that  it  would 
have  been  more  maidenly  to  drop  her  eyes. 

But  the  Major  fascinated  her.  He  was  so  tall 
and  soldierly  in  nis  evening  clothes.  Alison 
clung  to  his  arm  so  confidently.  Caroline  thought 


A  WEDDING  245 

that  her  hand  must  have  trembled,  for  once  he 
looked  down  at  her  —  oh,  so  tenderly  it  brought 
the  tears  smarting  to  her  own  eyes  —  and  drew 
Alison's  arm  a  little  closer  within  the  bend  of 
his  own. 

And  then,  when  she  met  Tevis,  another  look 
had  come  into  his  eyes  —  the  Major's  —  an  ap- 
pealing look  that  said,  "Take  care  of  her." 

Caroline  had  liked  the  reassuring  smile  that 
flashed  for  a  moment  from  Tevis'  gray  eyes ;  they 
promised. 

It  was  only  Alison  who  seemed  cold  and  hard 
and  bright  —  triumphant. 

And  then  Caroline  missed  the  bridesmaids  in 
their  charming  frocks.  She  was  miles  away  — 
delving  back  into  her  childhood — her  little-girl 
days. 

Something  in  Alison's  expression  brought  a 
wave  of  memories:  a  day  in  the  tower  room  — 
those  old  letters.  Why  should  she  think  of  them 
now?  She  had  lived  to  laugh  over  them.  She 
could  scarcely  blame  Alison,  except  for  lack  of 
honor. 

And  then  she  caught  sight  of  Leigh's  pathetic, 
strained  little  face  in  the  family  pew  —  her  eyes 
glistening  with  tears.  And  her  mother  was  lift- 
ing her  handkerchief.  Why  did  people  cry  at  a 
wedding? 

The  procession  moved  to  the  inner  rail.    She 


246      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

was  lost  again,  the  music  was  so  seductive,  so 
dreamy. 

She  did  not  realize  that  she  was  stopping  the 
ceremony;  she  had  looked  away  for  a  moment 
to  the  beautiful  azure  window  that  memorialized 
a  dead-and-gone  parishoner.  She  had  never  been 
close  enough  before  to  read  the  inscription.  She 
bent  a  trifle  closer. 

It  was  the  deathlike  silence  that  cut  into  her 
consciousness.  The  clergyman's  sonorous  voice 
had  stopped. 

Blair  nudged  her.  Alison  was  holding  out 
her  flowers.  As  Caroline's  fingers  fumbled  over 
the  stubborn  white  glove,  she  felt  ashamed, 
panicky,  though  Alison  smiled  bravely. 

It  was  over  at  last  —  the  ring  on  the  slender 
finger.  The  minister  went  on,  Tevis'  low  voice 
repeating  after  him : 

"With  this  ring  I  thee  wed,  and  with  all  my 
worldly  goods  I  thee  endow." 

Caroline  was  paying  attention  now,  watching 
for  the  world-old  thrill. 

"For  as  much  as  Tevis  and  Alison  have  given 
and  pledged  their  troth,  each  to  the  other,  and 
have  declared  the  same  by  giving  and  receiving 
a  ring,  I  pronounce  that  they  are  Man  and 
Wife." 

The  Joyful  strains  of  the  march,  the  pealing 
church  bells  reassured  'her  as  she  passed  down 


A  WEDDING  247 

the  aisle.  Perhaps  her  momentary  abstraction 
had  not  been  noticed.  But  Maumy's  black  look 
as  she  passed  her  in  a  rear  pew  told  the  tale; 
it  had  been. 

She  wanted  to  run  away  and  hide  her  face, 
but  an  audible  whisper,  breaking  into  enthusi- 
astic tones  at  the  entrance  held  her. 

"Wasn't  the  maid  of  honor  lovely?"  a  guest 
was  saying.  "Really  handsomer  than  the  bride, 
I  thought;  so  much  more  to  her  face.  And 
wasn't  it  cunning  the  way  she  forgot  to  take 
her  sister's  flowers?  Weddings  are  so  trying. 
I've  yet  to  see  one  that  went  off  without  a  hitch 
somewhere " 

Caroline  turned  and  from  the  ends  of  her 
little  brown  fingers  wafted  a  kiss  toward  Mrs. 
Ludlow's  crimsoning  face. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

CHANGES 

THE  weeks  following  Allison's  wedding 
were  long  and  harrassing  to  the  family. 
True  to  prediction,  Leigh  had  a  break- 
down that  lasted  well  into  months. 

It  was  the  day  after  the  wedding  that  she  be- 
came ill.  She  and  Caroline  were  packing  the 
wedding  gifts  when  suddenly  she  sank  down  on 
a  chair  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 
"I  shall  have  to  leave  this  to  you  and  Mayre, 
darling,"  she  said  in  a  voice  scarcely  audible. 
"Everything  seems  to  be  turning  black " 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence.  Caroline  caught 
her  in  her  strong  young  arms  and  carried  her 
across  the  hall  to  her  own  room.  She  revived 
her  wTith  methods  she  had  watched  Leigh  apply 
to  others  and  tucked  her  in  bed  before  calling 
the  family.  It  was  amazing  how  Caroline's  de- 
termination had  developed  into  efficiency.  She 
carried  trouble  with  as  high  a  hand  as  she  had 
mischief  in  the  old  days. 

"Don't  fuss,  please,"  came  Leigh's  weak  voice 


CHANGES  249 

from  the  depths  of  snowy  pillows.  "I  will  be 
all  right  in  a  few  minutes " 

"You  will  not  be  all  right  for  months,  Sister, 
and  you  might  as  well  make  up  your  mind  to  it." 

Doctor  Eavenel  came  at  Caroline's  summons. 
His  face  was  anxious  as  he  looked  down  on  the 
emaciated  little  form. 

"We  must  have  a  nurse,"  he  said. 

"I  shall  take  care  of  her,"  came  Caroline's 
quick  response. 

"But  your  school,  dear " 

"Mother  can  sit  with  her  when  I  am  away. 
Please  keep  still  and  be  good,  Leigh ;  don't  make 
it  hard  for  us." 

And  sighing,  Leigh  turned  her  face  to  the  wall. 

Maumy  Rachel  was  not  well  either;  however, 
she  managed  to  get  about  slowly.  Mayre  helped 
all  she  could,  but  though  Mayre  was  willing,  she 
lacked  system  and  judgment. 

Cousin  Eliza  left  the  week  following  the  wed- 
ding, and  with  the  exodus  of  the  three  maids, 
the  house  resumed  a  normal  atmosphere. 

"Four  servants  in  a  house  where  you  can 
scarcely  afford  to  keep  one !"  was  Caroline's  dis- 
gusted comment.  "I  am  glad  they  are  gone,  and 
the  Lord  preserve  me  from  ever  having  to  de- 
pend on  them  when  I  keep  house!  Just  give 
me  one  old  darky  Maumy  and  my  two  strong 
arms "  The  sentence  ended  in  a  trilling 


250      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

laugh.  Caroline's  spirits  were  never  wholly 
dampened,  no  matter  how  blue  things  looked. 

The  night  before  Cousin  Eliza's  departure  she 
was  closeted  for  some  time  in  Doctor  Eavenel's 
office.  After  a  roundabout  conversation  she 
came  to  the  object  of  her  visit. 

"I  want  Caroline,  Cousin  Robert,"  she  said, 
and  stopped.  The  doctor's  quick,  penetrating 
look  had  cut  the  sentence. 

"I  am  asking  a  great  deal,  but  I  would  edu- 
cate her  as  a  child  of  her  promise  should  be 
educated.  She  is,  of  course,  the  flower  of  your 
family  —  intellectually.  She  will  do  wonderful 
things  if  opportunity  is  given  her." 

Doctor  Ravenel  had  looked  away,  Ms  eyes 
proud  and  tender. 

"I  would  send  her  to  the  best  college  in  the 
country  and  finish  her  education  in  Europe — do 
all  that  I  did  for  Alison  —  and  more " 

Something  in  the  face  of  Caroline's  father 
stopped  her. 

"I  am  providing  for  my  daughter's  education, 
thank  you,  Cousin  Eliza.  She  shall  have  college 
training,  but  not  under  circumstances  of  which 
you  speak.  The  child  has  been  endowed  by  na- 
ture with  a  fine,  wholesome  democracy.  I  don't 
know  what  money  would  do  to  it.  Kill  it  prob- 
ably—  at  any  rate  take  off  the  edge  —  dwarf  it. 
With  proper  direction,  Caroline  will  make  this 


CHANGES  251 

old  world  a  little  better  for  passing  through. 
Providence  has  been  kind.  I  would  be  unworthy 
of  my  trust  if  I  defeated  it " 

"I  would  not  spoil  her,  Cousin  Robert.  I 
would  put  her  on  a  limited  allowance " 

Doctor  Ravenel's  silvered  head  shook  slowly. 

"But  don't  you  think  Caroline  ought  to  have 
a  say  in  the  matter,  be  consulted * " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 

"Perhaps  —  yes.     But  not  at  present." 

"Think  what  it  would  mean  to  her,  Cousin 
Robert,  —  all  that  I  am  able  to  do.  And  remem- 
ber —  she  is  a  Ravenel " 

"Exactly."  The  word  burst  from  his  lips  with 
warmth  ill-concealed. 

"And  the  Ravenels  are  all  brilliant.  They 
have  minds " 

"Few  of  them  have  been  hampered  with 
money ;  its  lack  is  often  an  asset." 

"I  would  not  call  the  Ravenels  poor,"  she  re- 
torted with  pride.  "They  have  never  made 
money." 

"You  infer  that  — that  they  marry  it?"  A 
smile  played  on  her  thin  lips. 

Doctor  Ravenel  put  out  his  hand. 

"Please  do  not  think  me  unappreciative,"  he 
said,  with  a  smile  that  dispelled  contention. 
"When  you  speak  of  Caroline  you  touch  a  chord 
• — that  vibrates.  I  have  great  dreams  for  the 


252      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

child.  I  must  see  her  over  tlie  brink  of  youth, 
on  the  safe  side  of  womanhood." 

Eliza  Mott's  hand  met  his  slowly ;  though  she 
responded  to  its  pressure,  she  knew  that  she 
could  never  hope  to  mould  Caroline's  future  as 
she  had  Alison's.  At  the  portal  of  her  character 
the  Major  stood  guard. 

Leigh's  illness  lengthened  into  weeks.  There 
were  days  when  she  could  not  stand  a  footfall 
across  the  room,  the  rattling  of  a  paper,  the 
fluttering  of  the  ruffled  curtains  at  the  window. 
Her  shattered,  long-suffering  nerves  had  given 
away. 

"Let  me  have  Caroline ;  she  understands,"  she 
would  whisper,  and  Caroline  would  come  in 
softly  and  lay  a  cool  hand  on  her  forehead, 
smoothing  back  the  wavy  hair ;  or  she  would  sit 
quietly  within  call,  longing  to  be  of  service. 

How  she  found  time  to  help  Maumy,  look  over 
her  father's  neglected  books,  answer  the  tele- 
phone, to  say  nothing  of  keeping  up  with  her 
junior  work  in  high-school,  no  one  knew.  In 
Leigh's  absence  she  had  become  the  head  of  the 
house. 

"Beats  all  how  that  'IT  no-count  chile  have 
become  the  corner-stone  of  the  temple,"  Maumy 
Rachel  declared.  "  I  'clare  for  to  goodness  I 
never  thought  she'd  'mount  to  nothin' !" 

There  came  a  day  when  Leigh  sat  up  and 


CHANGES  253 

noticed  Blair's  roses  in  the  vase  beside  the  bed. 

"They  have  come  every  other  morning,  Sister," 
Caroline  said,  and  a  warm  flush  stole  into  the 
invalid's  white  cheeks.  "Every  other  morning, 
rain  or  shine!  Mercy,  it's  worth  being  sick  to 
have  such  devotion !"  And  Leigh  had  murmured 
something  about  Blair's  being  a  dear. 

"He's  next  to  the  nicest  man  I  have  ever 
known,"  Caroline  declared. 

"And  who  is  the  nicest?" 

"The  Major,  of  course !" 

There  were  other  worries  besides  illness.  It 
had  taken  all  Doctor  Ravenel  could  collect  to 
settle  the  wedding  expenses. 

"Now  that  we  have  finally  paid  the  florist 
and  the  caterers  and  dressmakers  and  servants, 
I  must  have  a  new  school  dress,"  Caroline 
laughed. 

"I  am  afraid  Miss  Younge  will  have  to  make 
over  some  of  the  things  Alison  left,  dear,"  Leigh 
said.  "The  material  is  very  fine,  and  they  are 
scarcely  worn." 

"All  right,"  Caroline  answered  cheerfully, 
"Nobody  here  knows  them,  and  if  they  did,  it 
wouldn't  matter.  In  a  family  where  there  are 
four  girls,  somebody  must  wear  the  hand-me- 
downs." 

Perhaps  -she  would  not  have  been  so  obliging 
had  not  Mayre's  skilful  designs  and  Leigh's 


254      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

equally  clever  brain  revolutionized  the  discarded 
things.  Caroline  wore  them  with  an  air.  Her 
companions  little  guessed  at  the  maneuvering 
that  went  on  in  the  family. 

"You  feel  just  like  you  were  visiting  royalty 
or  something  when  you  go  to  see  the  Ravenels," 
Kathleen  once  said  to  her  mother.  "Mrs.  Rave- 
nel  is  always  dressed  up,  with  those  darling 
white  lawn  things  around  her  throat  and  wrists, 
and  their  table  just  shines  with  that  old  china 
and  silver " 

"Yes,  and  Miss  Leigh's  broke  her  poor  weak 
back  a-puttin'  on  all  that  style,"  Mrs.  Briggs 
retorted.  "Mrs.  Ravenel  don't  hurt  herself 
none.  I  could  keep  slicked  up  too  if  I  never 
went  into  the  kitchen  nor  felt  the  heft  of  a  broom 
in  my  hand." 

"That's  so,"  Kathleen  admitted.  "But  Caro- 
line works  a  lot.  She  can  hardly  ever  go  any- 
where any  more." 

But  Mrs.  Ravenel  did  assume  some  of  the 
duties  during  Leigh's  illness.  She  and  Caroline 
had  a  long  conference  one  night  behind  a  closed 
door.  No  one  ever  knew  what  passed  between 
them,  but  it  was  noticeable  that  when  Caroline 
left  for  school  the  next  morning  Mrs.  Ravenel 
visited  the  kitchen  and  gave  orders  for  the  day. 
Maumy  stood  with  arms  akimbo  and  dropped 
jaw  as  she  listened. 


CHANGES  255 

"Yes'm,  yes'm,  Miss  Em'bly;  yes'm,  I  under- 
stands," was  all  she  was  able  to  say. 

It  was  noticeable,  too,  that  Caroline  frequently 
left  for  school  with  these  words  on  her  lips : 

"I  am  leaving  the  ordering  for  you  this  morn- 
ing, Mother  darling.  Please  see  that  Maumy 
gets  the  groceries  by  noon,  and  I  have  left  full 
directions  for  Leigh's  medicines.  If  you  are  at 
all  puzzled,  Major  will  help  you;"  or,  "I  did  not 
have  time  to  get  the  laundry  out  last  night; 
please  see  that  it  is  counted  —  they  are  so  care- 
less at  the  Marvel." 

Then  she  would  be  off,  waving  kisses  until  she 
reached  the  corner. 

There  was  little  time  for  visiting.  Occasion- 
ally she  managed  to  spend  a  half-hour  with 
Madame  Wakefield,  for  the  Madame  was  urgent 
in  her  invitations.  Once  in  a  while,  after  Leigh 
began  to  curl  like  a  tired  child  on  the  old  sofa 
before  the  drawing-room  fire,  Alfred  would  come 
over  with  a  message 

"Madame  says  that  I  am  to  mind  Miss  Leigh 
for  an  hour  while  you  drive  with  her,  Caroline. 
I  say,  you're  it  at  The  Lodge.  I  used  to  think 

I  had  some  show,  but  now  I  know  jolly  well " 

A  good-natured  laugh  left  the  unfinished  sen- 
tence to  the  imagination.  Or,  "Madame  sent 
over  these  magazines  and  books.  She  said  I  was 
to  pick  out  some  interesting  stuff  and  read  to 


256      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

your  patient.    She  wants  you  to  shop  with  her." 

Those  drives  and  tours  were  a  delight. 
Madame  so  well  understood  Caroline's  pride. 
She  did  not  load  her  with  useless  gifts  nor  hum- 
ble her  by  offering  frocks,  expensive  frocks  which 
Caroline  felt  free  to  exclaim  over  in  the  shops. 
Sometimes  a  box  of  flowers  was  sent  back  to 
Leigh,  or  a  new  book;  sometimes  it  was  merely 
a  delicacy  to  tempt  a  whimsical  appetite.  But 
the  Madame  never  forgot ;  she  had  her  own  ways 
of  paying  for  Caroline's  society. 

There  was  little  time  for  writing  during  those 
busy  days.  The  tower  had  a  forsaken  air.  The 
desk  was  cluttered.  Newspaper  clippings  piled 
high ;  the  dust  lay  thick  on  manuscripts. 

Sometimes,  as  of  old,  She  took  fifteen  minutes 
to  watch  the  sunset,  or  scribble  a  line  to  The  Peak 
or  Mayre's  upspringing  garden  —  that  was  in 
April  —  but  mostly  her  daily  food  was  work. 

In  June  she  finished  her  school  year  with 
credit,  though  not  brilliantly.  Caroline  was  too 
versatile  to  shine ;  too  much  of  a  dreamer  to  pin 
herself  to  drudgery  and  routine. 

"Her  mind  is  too  quick  for  depth,"  a  young 
teacher  remarked  to  another.  "Hers  is  a  super- 
ficial cleverness." 

"Give  the  seeds  you  are  planting  time  to  grow," 
the  older  woman  replied  thoughtfully.  "The 
road  to  success  is  long  and  winding;  I  have  seen 


CHANGES  257 

the  most  conscientious  student  fail  to  attain 
what  —  in  time  —  the  quickened  spirit  reached 
at  a  bound.  Caroline  will  never  be  grooved, 
steered  in  the  ruts  of  others'  making." 

It  was  true.  Caroline  would  always  run 
counter  to  conventions.  To  her,  traditions  were 
tiresome  treadmills;  amenities  but  kindness. 
When  she  looked  over  the  mountains  and  said 
that  her  way  lay  there,  she  spoke  truly.  It 
wound  through  straits  of  rocky  experience. 

It  was  an  afternoon  early  in  May  that  Caro- 
line opened  her  desk  in  the  tower  and  spent 
some  time  over  an  important  letter.  Now  and 
then  she  stopped  to  watch  the  robins  building 
their  nests  in  the%*ees  that  flourished  along  the 
ditch-boxes,  or  to  glance  down  into  the  garden 
where  Mayre  and  Alfred  Feveral  patiently  sewed 
and  weeded. 

The  letter  was  finished  at  last :  only  a  part  of 
it  need  be  recorded : 
"Dear  Cousin  Eliza : 

I  have  been  thinking  so  much  about  your  last 
words  to  me  at  the  station :  'If  you  ever  want  any- 
thing come  to  me.'  I  am  coming  now,  to  ask  you 
something  that  will  make  me  happier  than  any- 
thing else  in  the  whole  world.  I  want  you  to 
invite  Leigh  to  come  to  you  for  a  few  months' 
rest.  You  said  that  you  would  be  glad  to  have 
any  of  us  at  any  time.  Since  the  wedding  she 


258      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

has  been  very  ill.  For  a  while  we  almost  de- 
spaired of  her  life,  but  now  she  is  up  and  around 
—  looking  so  thin  and  little.  The  other  day  I 
overheard  the  Major  telling  Mother  that  what 
she  needed  most  of  all  was  a  change  of  scene 
and  a  lower  altitude.  I  know  that  you  would 
be  repaid  a  thousandfold  in  having  her  —  she  is 
such  an  inspiration.  I  do  not  like  to  ask  Alison 
to  take  her.  She  is  so  wrapped  up  in  her  new 
home  and  friends.  And  may  I  trust  you  not  to 
mention  that  I  have  written.  The  invitation, 
coming  as  a  surprise,  would  mean  so  much." 

Two  weeks  later  Leigh  was  bidding  her  family 
good-by  with  brightened  eyes. 

"She  looks  better  already,"  ner  mother  said, 
waving  her  fond  adieus.  "How  kind  Eliza  is. 
It  was  so  splendid  to  think  of  dear  Leigh." 

And  Caroline,  winking  back  joyful  tears,  said 
merely : 

"Cousin  Eliza  has  a  soul.  I  felt  it  the  first 
time  we  watched  a  sunset.  Now  Mother,  if  you 
will  just  keep  the  reins  until  vacation.  You 
manage  things  so  wonderfully — and  you  are  look- 
ing so  well  —  and  beautiful.  Major  said  this 
morning  your  step  was  like  a  girl's." 

The  words  might  have  sounded  patronizing  if 
they  had  been  given  with  less  sincerity.  At  any 
rate  Mrs.  Kavenel  did  not  take  offense.  She 
smiled  into  the  speckled  eyes  that  met  her  own. 


CHAPTER  XX 

CAROLINE  GOES  LARKING 

IT  was  at  noon  one  warm  day  in  July  that 
Caroline,  entering  Mayre's  room  for  a 
book,  found  her  sitting  by  the  west  window, 
regardless  of  the  streaming  sun,  bathed  in  tears. 

"For  goodness'  sake,  what  has  happened?" 
Caroline  asked,  pausing  in  the  door  to  make  sure 
that  her  eyes  were  not  deceiving  her.  Mayre 
was  so  seldom  upset.  Her  poise  was  a  family 
pride. 

"Close  the  door,  and  I  will  tell  you.  Oh  Caro- 
line, the  most  awful  thing  has  happened.  I 
simply  can't  stand  it  —  I  won't." 

"What,  do  tell  me  what,  Mayre." 

"A  little  while  ago  the  telephone  rang.  Maumy 
said  it  was  for  me.  Muriel  Roach  was  calling. 
She  said  that  she  was  giving  a  fancy-dress  dance 
at  the  Country  Club  Saturday  night  for  that 
cousin  she  has  here  visiting  from  the  East  and 
wanted  to  know  if  I  would  come.  You  know  how 
awfully  hard  it  is  to  think  of  an  excuse  over  the 
telephone,  so  I  said,  'Why,  yes,  I  think  I  can/  and 
tV  en  she  said " 


260      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Mayre's  head  went  down  in  her  hands  again. 

"Then  she  said  that  she  would  have  Punny 
Matthews  —  Punny  Matthews  —  call  for  me  at 
half-past  eight." 

"Punny !» 

"Yes,  Punny !" 

"Why  Punny?" 

"Because  no  one  else  would  go  with  him,  I 
suppose " 

"And  she  made  you  the  —  goat "  Caro- 
line's English  sometimes  lacked  purity,  for  all 
she  was  a  Ravenel. 

«Yes  —  just  that." 

"Well,  cheer  up !  I  can  imagine  a  good  many 
worse  things  than  being  a  goat." 

"But  that  isn't  all " 

"No?" 

"She  said  she  was  asking  Alf  for  herself.  Alf, 
who  has  never  called  on  her,  and  whom  she 
scarcely  knows.  Imagine!" 

"Oh,  I  see.  Alf 's  the  secret  sorrow  —  not  poor 
Punny." 

"No  —  it's  Punny.  I  simply  refuse  to  go  with 
him.  You  know  how  the  men  trade  their  dances ; 
the  girls  wouldn't  dance  with  him.  I  would  be 
the  most  glorious  wallflower  that  ever  bloomed. 
I  am  unpopular  enough,  as  it  is;  now  if  it  were 
only  you " 

"But  I  am  not  out  yet,  darling.    Mother  would 


CAROLINE  GOES  LARKING  261 

expect  every  dead-and-gone  Kirtley  in  the  War- 
rensburg  cemetery  to  rise  from  their  graves  if 
I  went  to  a  party  before  my  life's  clock  struck 
eighteen." 

"I  know " 

"But  you  say  this  is  a  fancy  dress  —  a  masked 
party?" 

"Yes." 

Caroline's  starlit  eyes  suddenly  became  two 
dusky  orbs. 

"Mayre  —  would  it  be  possible — could  I — take 
your  place?  I  am  taller,  I  know,  but  with  low 
heels  and  a  long  cloak.  Our  voices  are  exactly 
alike.  People  always  think  I  am  you  over  the 
telephone.  I  am  sure  we  could  not  be  told  apart 
—  masked." 

Her  tones  had  taken  on  a  daring  note  that 
lifted  Mayre's  sodden  spirits. 

"And  not  tell  Mother  and  Father?"  Mayre 
qestioned,  coming  out  of  the  depths. 

"Major  wouldn't  care  —  and  Mother  needn't 
know  for  once.  Oh,  Mayre,  let  me.  It's  so  larky ! 
I  would  like  to  show  Muriel  Koach  a  thing  or 
two."  A  vision  of  Muriel's  tucking  a  fine  pocket 
handkerchief  in  a  taffeta  gown  passed  before  her 
eyes,  but  she  said  nothing.  It  was  rather  a  small 
thing  to  remember,  but  somehow  it  had  remained 
through  the  years,  perhaps  because  Muriel's 
reputation  for  fairness  was  not  of  the  best. 


262      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"Would  you?"  May  re's  tones  were  almost 
pleading. 

"Would  I?    Try  me." 

The  next  few  days  were  spent  in  Mayre's 
room  behind  a  locked  door. 

"Don't  let  Maumy  find  out  what  we  are  doing," 
Caroline  cautioned.  It  was  Mayre  W7ho  designed 
the  costume,  of  course.  Only  an  artist  could 
have  created  it.  She  even  insisted  upon  taking 
her  own  spending  money  to  purchase  the  ma- 
terial, so  grateful  was  she  to  be  freed  from  the 
engagement,  and  her  nimble  fingers  fashioned  it. 
In  the  absence  of  Leigh  who  was  still  with  Cousin 
Eliza  —  spending  the  summer  at  an  Eastern  re- 
sort and  getting  stronger  every  day  —  Mayre  had 
developed  a  talent  for  sewing. 

"Oh,  it's  going  to  be  too  dear  for  words!" 
Caroline  exclaimed,  running  the  soft  lustrous 
sateen  through  her  hands.  "I  shall  not  only 
look,  but  feel  like  a  daffodil  in  it!" 

A  daffodil  she  was  to  be.  It  was  marvelous 
how  Mayre,  with  the  two  shades  of  yellow  —  one 
deep  gold,  the  other  paler  —  had  fashioned  a 
flower.  The  lovely,  upturned  petals  frilled  about 
Caroline's  neck  and  shoulders;  the  soft  green 
silk,  which  Mayre  had  found  in  an  attic  trunk, 
winding  about  her  slender  body,  made  a  perfect 
stem;  the  green  mask,  falling  below  her  flushed 
cheeks,  added  mystery  and  charm. 


CAROLINE  GOES  LARKING  263 

"If  I  could  only  get  out  of  the  house  without 
Maumy  seeing  me,"  Caroline  fretted.  "She  would 
know  me  in  a  minute." 

But  at  dinner,  the  night  of  the  dance,  Maumy 
stopped  beside  Mrs.  Ravenel's  chair  and  said : 

"Please,  Miss  Em'bly,  if  you  don't  mine,  I'se 
gwine  to  make  a  liT  call  to-night.  I  won't  be 
out  late,  but  I'se  got  to  go." 

Caroline  held  her  breath  with  suspense  while 
her  Mother  answered : 

"Of  course,  if  it  is  necessary,  Rachel." 

"What  time  are  you  going?"  Caroline  asked. 

"  'Bout  eight  o'clock,  I  reckon  —  if  I  can  git 
off." 

"I  will  dry  the  dishes  for  you,"  Mayre  sug- 
gested, to  Caroline's  intense  relief! 

"This  is  the  night  of  the  party,  isn't  it,  dear?" 
Mrs.  Ravenel  inquired  with  surprise.  "You  will 
scarcely  have  time  to  help  Maumy." 

"Oh,  the  party  is  not  until  nine."  Mayre 
answered  lightly.  "The  costume  is  all  ready, 
you  know." 

"Let  me  see  you,  dear,  before  you  go,"  her 
mother  said,  eyeing  her  proudly. 

And  then  an  unexpected  thing  happened. 

"I  have  tickets  for  a  musical  at  the  hotel  to- 
night," Doctor  Ravenel  said  to  his  wife.  "I  feel 
like  relaxing.  This  has  been  a  strenuous  day. 
Would  you  care  to  go?" 


264      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Mrs.  Ravenel  pleasantly  acquiesced.  Caro- 
line's breath,  again  released,  was  quick  and  sibi- 
lant. 

Two  hours  later  Punny,  stepping  into  the 
drawing-room  (the  front  door  had  been  left 
wide),  was  somewhat  aghast  to  see  a  flower  on 
a  long,  slender  stem  suddenly  come  to  life  and 
walk  toward  him  from  the  piano.  When  he  had 
recovered  his  startled  senses,  he  gave  a  low, 
complimentary  whistle,  exclaiming: 

"Jove,  that's  something  of  a  costume,  Mayre! 
But  what  has  it  done  to  you?  It's  that  winding 
business  makes  you  look  so  tall,  I  suppose — gives 
you  height.  Well,  I  guess  we'll  show  folks  what's 
what  to-night.  Gee,  but  you're  stunning.  I 
suppose  you  designed  it?" 

"I  helped,"  Caroline  answered  beneath  the 
green  mask.  Her  voice  was  low  and  ladylike, 
typically  Mayre's. 

"Well,  it's  a  stunner  all  right!  Don't  think 
I've  ever  seen  anything  just  like  it.  Are  we 
ready  to  go?" 

"Quite." 

She  went  to  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  called 
casually : 

"Good  night,  Caroline.  Don't  forget  to  lock 
up." 

"Good-bye.  I  hope  you  have  a  wonderful  time, 
Mayre,"  came  the  enthusiastic  answer. 


CAROLINE  GOES  LARKING  265 

The  ride  to  the  club  was  given  to  a  much  more 
animated  conversation  than  Punny  had  expected. 

"Say,  what's  changed  you  so?"  he  asked,  as 
they  neared  the  brilliantly  lighted  house  set  in 
a  thicket  of  pines.  "I  never  heard  you  talk 
before.  You  were  always  such  a  little  mouse  at 
school." 

Caroline's  pretty  lips  puckered. 

"That  was  several  years  ago,  Punny.  I've 
grown  since  then.  You  see,  I  was  just  a  bud  — 
now  I'm  blooming!" 

"I'll  say  you  are !"  Punny  admitted.  "You've 
as  much  punch  as  that  young  sister  of  yours. 
What  is  it  the  old  black  woman  calls  her :  'Li'P 
Miss  No  Count.' " 

"She  hasn't  called  her  that  for  some  time," 
the  daffodil  objected.  "And  please  don't  call 
Maumy  a  black  woman.  She  is  only  black  out- 
side, you  know ;  her  soul's  white." 

"You  Southerners  set  great  store  by  your 
darkies,"  Punny  remarked,  his  laugh  ringing 
out  on  the  still  air. 

"We  do  when  they  are  our  friends,"  came  the 
quick  retort.  "Maumy's  a  Kirtley.  She  was 
born  in  my  grandfather's  family." 

The  conversation  must  have  grated,  for  the 
daffodil  drooped  in  the  softly  cushioned  seat  of 
the  Matthews  runabout. 

"You're  not  wilting?"  Punny  remarked  anxi- 


266      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

ously.  "I  want  you  to  keep  fresh  until  I  deliver 
you  to  Muriel." 

The  veranda  was  filling  up  with  guests.  Caro- 
line ran  up  the  wide  steps  and  into  the  dressing 
room.  It  was  crowded  with  girls  of  Mayre's 
age. 

She  threw  off  the  long  coat  that  had  protected 
her  costume  from  curious  eyes  and  went  toward 
the  dressing  table  to  arrange  tendrils  of  wind- 
blown hair  and  straighten  her  mask.  A  murmur 
ran  through  the  crowd.  "Who  is  she?"  was 
whispered  on  every  side.  "Oh,  how  lovely! 
Isn't  she  graceful,  see  that  willowy  walk  —  like 
a  flower  pushed  by  the  wind.  My  dear,  I  see  my 
finish  (this  from  a  rosebud  herself) ;  that's  the 
belle  of  the  ball !" 

And  the  prophecy  was  correct.  Caroline  was 
scarcely  on  the  floor  before  her  programme  was 
filled,  even  to  the  extra  numbers.  Punny  had 
scarcely  a  "look-in"  (that  was  what* he  called  it), 
although  Alfred  Feveral  managed  to  acquire 
three  dances  without  effort. 

The  evening  passed  in  a  dream.  Caroline  never 
forgot  the  bliss  of  her  triumphs,  even  when  her 
"life's  clock  had  struck  eighteen"  and  she  was 
honestly  admitted  to  the  realm  of  social  frolics. 
She  danced  gaily,  gracefully,  forgetting  the  repu- 
tation that  she  was  storing  up  for  her  decorous 


CAROLINE  GOES  LARKING  267 

little  sister.  The  mask  was  her  protection.  She 
could  be  as  audacious  as  she  liked. 

Only  one  thing  happened  to  mar  the  joy  of  con- 
quest. It  was  when  Alfred  Feveral  begged  her 
to  sit  out  his  dance  beneath  the  sheltering  pines. 
She  dreaded  what  she  knew  he  wanted  to  say 
and  tried  to  turn  the  conversation. 

But  his  heart  was  too  full. 

"Mayre,"  he  began,  "Mayre,  you  are  so  changed 
—  the  enthusiasm  that  I  missed  in  your  nature, 
the  joy  and  happiness  —  I  have  found.  You  are 
not  shy." 

"Oh,  but  I  am!  Please,  let  us  go  in  —  that 
music,  it's  a  waltz." 

"You  are  my  music." 

He  had  taken  her  hand  but  she  quickly  with- 
drew it. 

"You  are  so  strange,  dear,  with  all  your  vivac- 
ity—  so  changed " 

"To-night  I  am  a  fairy  princess ;  the  wave  of  a 
wand  and  I  am  gone " 

"You  will  never  escape  me " 

"Watch  me,  Sir  Knight !" 

She  had  slipped  from  his  side  and  was  bowing 
low,  her  laugh  rippling  on  the  evening  breeze. 

Alfred  rose  and  stretched  forth  a  hand,  but  the 
daffodil  swayed,  the  wind  blew  it  back  to  the 
ballroom. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  watching  it  —  a  human- 


268      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

ized,  exquisite  thing,  floating  on  the  arm  of  a 
college  man,  a  tall,  well-built  fellow,  with  a 
healthy  tan  showing  below  his  mask. 

Then  he  went  farther  back  among  the  pines 
and  sat  for  a  long  time,  smoking  in  silence. 

There  was  another  exciting  moment  on  the 
broad  veranda.  It  was  when  Jimmy  Ludlow, 
whom  she  had  not  dreamed  of  seeing,  since  he 
was  supposed  to  be  in  the  mountains  camping, 
asked  suddenly : 

"How  long  does  it  take  a  girl  to  grow  up, 
Mayre?  Is  she  a  woman  at  eighteen  —  old 
enough  for  a  —  heart  affair?" 

And  the  daffodil  had  straightened  her  mask, 
raised  it  a  trifle  audaciously,  so  that  her  lips 
were  free  to  smile. 

"That  depends  a  little  bit,  Jimmy  —  on  the  girl 

•>•> 

"Caroline,  for  instance,"  he  said  boldly. 

"Caroline?"  There  was  a  second's  pause. 
"Caroline  grew  up  in  a  night,  Jimmy.  It's  sor- 
row —  and  responsibility  that  ages  —  not  years. 
Will  you  excuse  me?  This  dance  belongs  to 
Punny  —  poor  Punny!  I  haven't  been  a  bit 
nice  to  him " 

And  another  man  went  into  the  pines  to  smoke 
and  meditate. 

It  was  almost  twelve  o'clock  when  the  daffodil, 
drooping  suddenly,  said : 


CAROLINE  GOES  LARKING  269 

"Punny,  I  am  sorry  to  ask  you  to  take  me  home 
before  they  unmask,  but  I  have  a  headache," 
which  was  almost  true;  excitement  had  brought 
its  penalty.  "I  really  must  go " 

Caroline  always  liked  Punny  after  his  hearty, 
"Sure,  Mike!"  It  was  sympathetic  and  under- 
standing. "Why  didn't  you  tell  me  sooner?" 

"I  only  —  just  felt  it.  You  don't  mind  miss- 
ing supper " 

"I  hate  refreshment  dope,"  Punny  declared 
honestly.  "Now,  if  it  was  a  hot  dog " 

But  what  did  a  daffodil  know  of  "hot  dogs?" 
It  vanished  down  the  long  veranda  like  mist  be- 
fore the  sun. 

And  Punny,  rubbing  his  eyes,  gazed  after  it  in 
a  dream. 

"Well  I'll  be  darned  if  you  can  tell  a  blame 
thing  about  girls,"  he  said,  as  he  ran  a  bewildered 
hand  through  his  high,  sleek  pompadour.  "Not  a 
doggone  thing !" 


CHAPTEE  XXI 
MATTMY  GOES  VISITING 

IF  May  re  and  Caroline  had  not  been  so  en- 
grossed in  the  fancy-dress  party,  they 
would  have  been  more  surprised  at  Maumy's 
wishing  to  make  a  call.  Maumy's  social  activities 
were  confined  strictly  to  the  Wednesday-night 
prayer  meeting  at  the  Baptist  church  and  an 
occasional  oyster  or  strawberry  "festible." 

For  some  time  an  idea  had  been  running 
through  Maumy's  head,  an  idea  that  threatened 
a  mental  breakdown  unless  she  found  a  way  to 
stay  her  restless  "gray  matter." 

"Look  lak  I'se  gwine  plum  nutty,"  she  mut- 
tered behind  the  locked  door  of  her  bedroom; 
"plum  offen  my  haid !  I  got  to  fine  out  somepin 
or  I  ain't  gwine  to  be  woth  shucks  to  my 
fam'bly." 

It  took  courage  to  "fine  out,"  but  determina- 
tion is  a  willing  handmaiden. 

On  the  night  of  the  party  Maumy  dressed  for 
her  call  with  unusual  care.  Her  broad,  black 
hands  were  scrubbed  until  they  glistened;  her 
face  had  a  corresponding  brightness;  her  bonnet, 


MAUMY  GOES  VISITING      271 

tied  neatly  beneath  her  chin,  rested  with  dignity 
on  her  white,  kinky  head ;  her  black  alpaca  dress, 
just  home  from  the  dressmaker,  was  neat  and  be- 
coming. 

"Reckon  I'se  good  enough  to  see  quality,"  she 
said,  as  she  took  a  last  look  in  the  mirror  that 
hung  above  her  bureau.  "Reckon  I'll  'scape  the 
ragpickers  and  git  past  a  crowd."  She  chuckled 
as  she  turned  out  her  light  and  locked  the  door. 

Down  the  street  she  wended  her  way,  turning 
at  the  corner  to  enter  the  side  gate  of  The  Lodge. 

"Please,  ma'am,  could  I  see  yo'r  Madame,"  she 
said  to  the  maid  who  answered  her  knock  at  the 
back  door. 

The  maid  was  a  little  haughty  as  she  answered, 
"I  will  see,"  and  left  her  standing  outside  on 
the  kitchen  porch. 

"Tell  her  it's  Miz  Ravenel's  cullod  Rachel," 
Maumy  called  after  the  retreating  figure.  "I'se 
right  sure  she's  gwine  see  me." 

The  girl  was  more  condescending  when  she 
returned.  "Madame  is  in  her  upstairs  sitting 
room.  She  will  see  you  there." 

Maumy  puffed  along  up  the  stairs  after  the 
light-footed  girl,  pausing  on  the  landing  a  bit 
uncertainly. 

"In  here,  Maumy,"  a  cordial  voice  called,  and 
the  next  moment  Rachel  was  standing  before  the 
sofa  where  Madame  was  reclining. 


272      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"Don't  git  up  please,  Miss  Caroline " 

The  words  slipped  out  so  naturally  that 
Maumy  put  her  hand  over  her  mouth  to  stifle 
them.  "Madame"  she  corrected. 

With  her  own  hands  Madame  Wakefield  pulled 
forth  a  chair. 

"Sit  here,  Maumy,"  she  said  kindly.  "You 
wanted  to  talk  with  me?" 

Maumy  sat  as  close  to  the  edge  of  the  chair 
as  comfort  permitted. 

"Yes'm.    Yes'm,  I  does." 

She  leaned  a  little  closer,  her  soft  black  eyes 
straining  in  the  Madame's  direction,  her  ample 
breast  rising  and  falling  with  each  quick  breath. 

The  room  was  still,  the  ticking  of  a  clock  on 
the  mantel  above  them  the  only  sound  that 
marred  the  silence. 

Maumy  reached  forth  a  trembling  hand  ana 
laid  it  on  Madame  Wakefield's  knee. 

"Honey,"  she  said,  her  voice  swept  with  emo- 
tion, "honey,  I  ain't  mistaken,  is  I;  my  ole  eyes 
ain't  play  in'  me  tricks?" 

She  stopped.  Madame's  face  was  strangely 
tender. 

"You  is  —  Miss  Car'line  Kirtley  —  ain't  you  — 
the  little  gal  what  I  used  to  fetch  and  carry  fer 
down  on  the  old  plantation  in  Virginny?  You 
reccomember  my  mammy's  ole  place  down  in  the 
west  field,  don't  you?  —  The  li'F  house  your  Paw 


MAUMY  GOES  VISITING      273 

built  fer  her  and  us  pickaninnies  after  the  Jack- 
sons  done  sent  her  ole  man  farther  South.  You 
'member,  don't  you,  Missy?  You  ain't  forgot?" 

The  silence  deepened.  In  Madame  Wakefield's 
eyes  tears  gleamed.  She  leaned  forward  and  laid 
a  hand  on  Maumy  Rachel's  trembling  black  one. 

"You  is,  ain't  you,  honey?  You  wouldn't  fool 
ole  Maumy?  I  ain't  gwine  to  tell  nobody  if  you 
don't  want  me  to  —  not  even  Miss  Em'bly  ner 
the  doctor.  Maumy's  kep'  Kirtley  secrets  'fore 
this.  Maybe  you  don't  reccomember  how  your 
brother  Marse  Gilbert  run  away  an'  come  home 
from  the  war  that  time — po'  lad  —  jes'  seventeen 
and  scart  to  def  of  them  bullies  up  North. 
Reckon  you  don't  'member  how  we  hid  him  in 
de  ole  cave  out  pas'  de  cornfield.  Reckon  you 
don't  'member  how  we  toted  milk,  and  corn  bread, 
and  now  an'  den  a  turkey  laig,  er  a  chicken  bone. 
Reckon  you " 

She  paused  for  a  second,  her  eyes  still  fixed 
on  the  blue  ones  opposite.  Then  she  went  on : 

"Reckon  you  ain't  fergot  young  Massa  Henry 
Chenault  that  done  try  to  kill  his  fool  self  the 
night  you  married  that  young  Englishman " 

Madame  Wakefield  raised  a  hand  that  also 
shook. 

"Maumy,  please,"  she  said. 

"And  the  time  little  Miss  Betty  Lee  done  took 
the  scarlet  fever  and  died.  Maumy  ain't  fergot 


274      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

how  you  cried  —  same  as  my  little  Miss  Car'line 
did,  When  the  good  Gord  done  took  her  little 
sister." 

They  were  both  weeping  softly  now.  Madame 
Wakefield  leaned  back  against  the  pillows  and 
covered  her  eyes  with  her  hand. 

"An'  yer  Paw,  Miss  Car'line.  Lordy,  I  can  see 
him  now,  so  fine  and  gran'  in  his  uniform  that 
day  he  march  away.  Can't  you,  Miss  Car'line? 
The  steel  of  his  ole  gun  a-flashin'  in  the  sun, 
his  yaller  belt  buckles  a-keepin'  company.  An'  I 
can  see  yer  Maw  a-standin'  in  the  doorway,  wavin' 
him  off,  holdin'  out  yer  li'l'  hands  with  their 
sticky  kisses.  You  always  a  great  one  fer  sweets, 
Miss  Car'line. 

"An'  the  old  Kirtley  house,  where  my  li'l-  white 
kiddies  war  brung  up.  You  rec'lec'  that  —  same 
ole  place  with  its  big  yard  a-stretchin'  to  the  hills 
— same  flowers  a-bloomin' — 'stershums  an'  sweet 
Williams  an'  'dendrons — yellow  Harrison  roses 
an'  sweetbrier.  You  ain't  fergot  the  ole  Balti- 
more Belle  that  wrap  itself  round  the  front  gal- 
lery posts,  is  you?  Miss  Mayre,  she  done  got  a 
slip  of  it  from  down  there,  Mrs.  Boland  sent  it  — 
you  ain't  fergot  ole  Colonel  Boland,  nuther,  I 
reckon — and  it's  done  fine —  fine.  And  the  lilacs ! 
Lordy,  them  lilacs  we  had !  Lavender  and  white, 
smellin'  the  whole  place  up  with  their  sweetness. 
Ain't  no  lilacs  here  like'm,  no,  siree!  Po'  things 


MAUMY  GOES  VISITING      275 

never  git  a  chance  to  poke  their  noses  through 
de  frost  and  snow  that  whirl  down  from  the  ole 
Peak  yander "  she  pointed  with  a  jerky  ges- 
ture through  the  window.  "No,  ma'am,  he  done 
set  gainst  lilacs.  An'  I  wonder  if  y'all  reccomem- 
bers  the  liT  willow  twig  you  and  me  planted  one 
day  out  by  the  barn.  It  done  grew  to  a  big  tree 
—  a  big  tree !" 

Madame  Wakefield  was  not  weeping  now.  She 
was  not  even  listening.  Her  eyes  were  dreamy, 
reminiscent;  a  tender  smile  played  about  her 
pleasant  mouth. 

Maumy  relapsed  into  silence.  It  was  the  Ma- 
dame who  finally  broke  it. 

"How  did  you  know  —  Maumy  —  know  that  I 
was  Caroline  Kirtley?" 

"I  reckon  first  it  was  somepin  liT  Miss  said  the 
time  she  first  seen  you.  She  war  tellin'  the 
fam'bly  'bout  you  at  the  dinner  table.  She's  a 
smart  liT  thing,  Miss  Car'line  is ;  them  speckled 
eyes  of  hers  don't  miss  nothin'.  Lord,  Miss  Car- 
'line, you  ought  to  seen  her  when  she  was  little  — 
beatenest  chile  to  run  away  an'  sass  back  an'  act 
up.  But  I  was  tellin'  you,  yes'm  —  liT  Miss  she 
come  home  an'  say  the  lady  over  here  had  big 
round  eyes  —  Kirtley  eyes  —  an  she  said  they 
laugh  wif  you,  not  at  you.  An'  it  made  me  think 
of  you;  my,  how  y'all  used  to  laugh  when  you 
was  little !  Seem  lak  you  was  born  to  smile. 


276      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"An'  then  the  time  y'all  come  over  an'  Miss 
Alison  she  went  on  'bout  that  ole  lady  she  thought 
was  her  Great-aunt.  You  must  'scuse  Miss  Ali- 
son fer  that,  Miss  Car'line.  She  done  mean  no 
harm.  The  girls  they  done  a  heap  a  talkin' 
'bout  their  Great-aunt  when  they  was  li'P  things 
jes'  babies  —  they  didn't  never  spect  nothin' 
from  her.  It  was  all  a  joke." 

"Of  course,  I  quite  understand." 

"I  hope  you  do.  The  Ravenels,  they  don't  ax 
nothin'  of  nobody!  The  Ravenels  is  just  as  good 
most  as  the  Kirtleys."  Maumy's  head  went  up 
with  a  jerk. 

"Most,  Rachel?"    The  smiling  mouth  dimpled. 

"Well,  ma'am,  don't  seem  lak  nobody  could 
quite  tetch  a  Kirtley,  but  the  Ravenels  is  pow'ful 
fine,  pow'ful  fine!" 

Again  there  was  silence.  This  time  Maumy 
spoke. 

"Miss  Car'line,  I  want  to  ax  you  something. 
I  hope  you  won't  take  no  'fense.  It  was  you  who 
sent  the  pearls  to  Miss  Alison,  wasn't  it?  You 
don't  need  to  answer,  I  can  see  by  your  face." 

"Miss  Alison  didn't  know?" 

"No'm,  no'm ;  she  ain't  never  suspec'." 

"They  belonged  in  the  Kirtley  family,  Maumy. 
It  was  only  right  that  they  should  come  back  to 
it.  I  am  too  old  for  pearls.  They  were  my 
mother's." 


MAUMY  GOES  VISITING      277 

"Yes'm.    Seems  lak  I  almost  reccomember." 

"And  Miss  Alison  wanted  pearls  —  from  Great- 
aunt  Caroline." 

"Yes'm,  yes'm.  Ain't  you  never  going  to  tell 
her,  Miss  Car'line?" 

"I  think  not.  Why  should  I?  It  is  quite  as 
pleasant  to  be  a  friend  to  the  Ravenels  as  a  rela- 
tive." 

"Oh,  no,  Miss  Car'line;  blood  is  thicker'n  wa- 
ter!" 

"Perhaps,  but  I  Shall  ask  you  to  keep  my  secret 
a  while  longer." 

"Did  you  know  when  you  come  here,  Miss  Car- 
'line—  know  my  people  was  right  'cross  the 
street?" 

"No  —  not  until  the  day  Miss  Caroline  tried 
to  save  little  Ivan.  I  knew  then.  She  is  a  dear 
child." 

"Miss  Car'line?  Yes'm,  but  uppidy.  Ter'ble 
uppidy  sometime.  You  don't  never  know  'bout 
her.  And  caution!  Lordy,  Miss  Car'line  ain't 
got  no  more  caution  than  a  goose.  Her  Paw 
was  plum  scared  to  def  the  day  she  dove  after 
the  dog.  He  turn  pale  as  a  corpse  when  she  tole 
him.  Miss  Car'line,  she's  the  core  of  his  heart, 
the  very  core,  yes'm.  An'  I'se  boun'  to  say  she's 
improvin'.  Seem  lak  when  she  done  git  her 
growth  and  her  woman  sense,  she's  gwine  lead 
>em  all." 


278      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"I  agree  with  you,  Maumy." 

"But  they's  all  fine,  all  my  chillun." 

"Of  course  they  are." 

"You  cain't  hep  havin'  yer  favorites." 

"And  yours?" 

Maumy  lowered  her  voice. 

"I  reckon  I'se  with  the  Major,  if  the  truf  was 
known.  I  set  a  heap  by  LiT  Miss ;  it's  always  de 
bad  ones  dat's  got  de  spunk  to  do  things.  Miss 
Car'line,  she'll  go  further  than  all  the  rest  put 
together " 

Maumy  paused  in  the  narration  to  laugh  until 
her  fat  sides  shook. 

"When  Miss  Car'line  was  little,  seem  lak  she 
done  had  a  debil.  I  nearly  bus'  laffin'  sometimes, 
when  I  think  of  her  tricks,  but  it  wern't  no  joke 
then,  no,  ma'am.  I  reccomember  once  when  she 
was  a  little  girl  they  let  her  sing  in  the  church 
choir ;  they  have  'em  in  the  'Piscopal  church,  liT 
boys  and  girls,  and  one  'Pifney  Sunday  they  was 
all  gwine  carry  candles  up  the  aisle." 

Maumy  paused  to  laugh. 

"An'  at  the  las'  minute  Miss  Nancy  Thurston, — 
y'all  reccomembers  the  Thurstons  —  Miss  Car- 
'line's  Sunday-school  teacher,  she  say  to  Miss 
Em'bly  she  'fred  to  trus'  Miss  Car'line  to  walk 
up  the  aisle;  she  'fred  she  bust  out  somewhere 


Madame  too  was  laughing  softly. 


MAUMY  GOES  VISITING      279 

"So  Miss  Em'bly,  she  took  Miss  Caroline  in  the 
pew  with  her,  an'  while  they  was  all  a-singin', 
and  Miss  Em'bly  busy  with  her  hymn  book,  all  of 
sudden  they  was  a  combustion  and  a  titter  run 
through  the  congregation,  and  Miss  Em'bly  she 
look  up,  and  here  Miss  Car'line,  she  done  wiggled 
herself  pas'  her  Maw,  and  got  on  the  end  of  the 
seat,  and  ever'  time  a  candle  done  pass  her,  she 
up  and  blew  hit  out ;  yes'm,  she  done  got  'em  all 
black  as  tar  when  Miss  Em'bly  she  jerk  her  back 
and  sneak  her  out  the  side  door.  Oh,  Lordy,  seem 
lak  I  never  kin  ferget  that  day.  Miss  Em'bly, 
she  come  nearer  being  mad  than  we  ever  seen  her, 
but  the  doctor " 

"What  did  the  doctor  do?" 

"I  reckon  he  done  whup  Miss  Car'line,  but  hit 
took  him  three  days  to  git  his  face  straight  'nougli 
to  do  it;  yes'm,  the  doctor  he  got  more  humor 
than  Miss  Em'bly.  Seem  lak  he  can  relish  a  joke 
better." 

There  were  other  reminiscences  of  Caroline, 
and  of  Leigh  and  little  Hope.  When  Maumy 
finished,  the  silver  tones  of  the  ornamental  clock 
were  chiming  ten. 

"Reckon  I'se  taken  up  too  much  of  your  time, 
Miss  Car'line,"  Maumy  apologized,  "but  I'se  re- 
lieved—  pow'ful  relieved.  I'd  a  been  plum  sick 
if  I  hadn't  come  over  here  to-night.  An'  I'se 
mighty  glad  to  see  you  again  in  the  flesh.  Many 


280      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

time  I'se  said  howdy,  fer  old  time's  sake,  to  yer 
picture  in  the  hall.  Yes'm." 

"And  you  will  not  speak  of  your  discovery, 
Maumy;  you  will  let  me  take  my  own  time  to 
inform  my  relatives?" 

The  look  in  Maumy's  honest  face  rebuked  the 
Madame. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Kachel,"  she  said  humbly. 
"Of  course  I  may  trust  you.  Good  night.  Come 
to  see  me  again.  I  want  to  know  more  of  War- 
rensburg  and  the  old  families." 

And  the  Madame,  instead  of  ringing  for  the 
light-footed  maid,  traveled  the  length  of  the  long 
hall  and  down  the  stairs  to  let  Maumy  out  the 
side  door. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
ALP  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY 

IT  was  in  October  that  Leigh  arrived  home, 
looking  as  fresh  and  dainty  as  a  wild  rose. 
In  New  York  Cousin  Eliza  had  found  a 
specialist  who,  by  a  series  of  exercises,  alternated 
by  absolute  rest,  had  performed  a  miracle  with 
Leigh's  back.  It  would  never  be  absolutely 
straight,  but  it  was  gradually  mending,  and  her 
step  was  almost  as  light  as  that  of  her  sisters. 

<rTou  are  not  going  to  work  yourself  down 
again,"  was  Caroline's  injunction,  beholding  the 
change  with  delight.  "It  isn't  necessary.  Mother 
is  a  perfect  dear  about  managing,  and  anyway, 
the  cares  are  much  lighter  than  they  used  to  be." 

Leigh  promised  to  be  careful.  She  had  brought 
from  the  South  a  young  negro  girl  to  assist 
Maumy  in  the  kitchen,  so  that  Maumy  also  might 
be  freed  from  overtiring  burdens.  Altogether, 
the  household  cares  seemed  to  have  been  reduced. 

Leigh  brought  news  of  Alison's  beautiful  home 
which  was  just  being  completed,  of  her  social 
conquests,  her  friends  and  neighbors. 


282      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"How  long  did  you  stay  with  her?"  Caroline 
asked. 

"Oh,  only  a  day  or  so,  dear ;  you  see,  she  was 
yery  busy  and  she  had  so  many  duties;  besides, 
I  went  to  visit  Cousin  Eliza." 

Caroline  made  no  comment;  Leigh's  flushed 
face  revealed  more  than  words.  Alison  had  been 
too  occupied  with  society  to  give  her  much  at- 
tention. 

"I  don't  see  how  she  could  bear  you  out  of 
her  sight,"  Caroline  said,  watching  the  color  ebb 
from  her  sister's  face.  "You  were  so  good  to  her 
when  she  wras  little.  I  remember  how  you  used 
to  dress  her  dolls  and  make  her  clothes  and  run 
after  her  with  the  whisk  broom  and  mend  her 
things  and " 

"That  was  my  pleasure,  darling.  Alison  al- 
ways graced  her  frocks,  and  she  loved  my  dolly 
clothes." 

Caroline's  disgruntled  "Humph !"  echoed  down 
the  hall  as  she  went  to  her  own  room.  Caroline's 
"Humphs !"  were  often  eloquent. 

It  was  about  this  time,  her  senior  year  in  high- 
school,  that  a  new  phase  of  her  character  de- 
veloped. She  became  tremendously  interested  in 
her  father's  poor  (they  were  legion),  and  her 
free  hours  were  spent  in  visiting  hovels,  hospitals 
and  sanitariums. 

"The  dear  child  is  exposing  herself  to  all  sorts 


ALF  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY    283 

of  disease,"  Mrs.  Kavenel  complained,  but  the 
doctor  laughed. 

"Caroline  has  had  everything  but  smallpox  and 
hydrophobia,  and  since  she  carries  several  vac- 
cination scars  and  the  meanest  dog  on  earth 
wouldn't  bite  her,  I  am  not  worrying." 

She  appeared  at  Madame  Wakefield's  one  day, 
looking  very  serious.  "Is  Alf  at  home?"  she  in- 
quired. 

"I  think  so  —  yes." 

"May  I  see  him,  please?" 

He  had  scarcely  entered  the  room  when  she 
said,  "Alf,  I  want  a  suit  of  your  clothes,  good 
ones,  and  an  overcoat  if  you  can  spare  it,  and  a 
pair  of  stout  shoes." 

"I  say,  Caroline,  that's  a  ripping  order. 
What's  happened?" 

"An  accident  —  to  a  young  fellow  the  Major 
has  been  looking  after.  He  fell  from  a  bridge  — 
a  high  one  —  and  twisted  his  back,  poor  chap. 
He's  been  in  the  hospital  nearly  six  months,  but 
he's  better  now,  and  he  wants  to  get  home  — 

somewhere  in  Illinois,  I  believe,  and " 

.  "Would  you  come  upstairs  with  us,  Madame?" 
Alf  inquired.  "Perhaps  Caroline  would  like  to 
select  the  material.  Suppose  you  won't  object 
to  an  English  tailor?" 

"Not  in  the  least;  anything  goes,  so  that  it's 
neat  and  whole.  My  young  man  is  pretty  much 


284      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

of  a  gentleman  if  he  was  stealing  a  ride  on  a 

freight  train " 

"Oh,  I  see " 

"No,  you  don't.  You  would  have  to  know  the 
particulars." 

"Wouldn't  mind  telling  us  —  since  I'm  to  out- 
fit him?" 

"You'd  be  interested." 

They  had  reached  the  second  landing.  Madame 
was  puffing  and  wheezing.  Caroline  slipped  an 
arm  through  hers,  and  together  they  walked  the 
length  of  the  wide  hall. 

Alf's  quarters  were  toward  the  west,  a  large 
square  room  in  perfect  order.  Caroline  gazed 
about  in  surprise.  "I  didn't  know  men  were  so 
neat,"  she  remarked.  "You  see,  we  are  all  girls 
in  our  family;  we  don't  know  anything  about 
boys." 

Alf  found  them  seats  and  turned  to  his  closet. 
In  a  moment  he  had  all  the  available  chairs  piled 
with  a  man's  wearing  apparel. 

Caroline  seemed  appalled. 

"Oh,  Alf,  I  really  didn't  mean  your  best  things 

—  just     something     half-worn  —  and     suitable 

_____  )> 

"I  haven't  anything  else " 

Caroline  pointed  to  a  tweed  suit  that  had  seen 
wear  but  was  still  in  good  condition. 
"That  would  be  fine,  and  the  brown  overcoat  — 


ALF  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY]    285 

oh,  you  are  kind —  it  looks  so  warm  and  woolly. 
Could  I  really  have  it?  Barnes  will  be  stunning 
in  it;  he's  such  a  big,  well-built  fellow.  That's 
why  I  came  to  you " 

Alf  made  his  best  dancing-school  bow. 

"And  he's  so  plucky.  I'll  tell  you  all  about 
him " 

She  did,  and  Alf  contributed  another  suit. 

Madame  left  them  at  the  door  of  the  upstairs 
living  room.  Caroline  sat  down  in  front  of  the 
mantel  and  gazed  for  a  while  at  the  portrait  that 
always  fascinated  her.  She  was  perfectly  at 
home.  She  often  sat  there  with  Alf  and  drank 
in  his  stories  of  England,  his  young  sisters,  his 
cousins.  She  loved  to  hear  about  them  —  of 
the  vast  estates  —  especially  the  Madame's. 

"You  must  visit  us  sometime,"  he  once  said, 
and  her  heart  gave  a  great  bound.  To  go  to  Eng- 
land :  to  see  an  English  garden  —  English  homes 
—  English  customs!  To  write  about  them  — 
letters,  of  course  —  to  the  family,  Kathleen  — 
Jimmy ! 

"It  would  be  wonderful,"  she  sighed,  "but  im- 
possible. In  the  first  place  Madame  may  never 
ask  me,  and  in  the  second,  I  doubt  if  we  could 
ever  scrape  up  enough  money  for  such  a  long 
trip."  She  was  always  charmingly  frank  in  re- 
gard to  the  family  finances.  It  was  quite  enough 
to  be  a  Kirtley,  without  having  money. 


286      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

"The  Madame  will  ask  you " 

For  some  reason  Alf  stopped  there  and  a  bit 
of  color  came  into  his  clear  English  cheek. 

"Do  you  think  she  would?" 

But  Alf  had  adroitly  called  her  attention  to 
some  photographs  and  she  forgot  the  joy  of  con- 
templation. 

To-day,  as  she  sat  looking  up  at  Charles  Fev- 
eral,  her  eyes  were  half-closed  and  dreamy. 

"I  wonder  if  I  shall  ever  meet  him,"  she  said 
presently. 

"Shouldn't  wonder." 

"When  I  make  that  visit  to  England?  When 
somebody  touches  me  with  a  fairy  wand  and 
transports  me  hither " 

Her  low,  bubbling  laugh  filled  the  room. 

Alf  came  nearer  and  drew  up  a  chair  facing 
her. 

"Do  that  again,"  he  said. 

"Do  what?" 

"Laugh." 

"Oh,  mercy,  Alf,  one  can't  laugh  at  nothing." 

"Tell  me  again  about  the  fairies." 

His  face  was  warm  and  eager.  Her  own  flushed 
with  a  memory.  It  had  come.  She  knew  that  it 
would.  It  was  not  the  first  time  she  had  caught 
Alf  watching  her  since  the  fancy-dress  party. 
She  had  felt  the  same  searching  scrutiny  when 
he  sat  with  Mayre,  a  baffled,  disappointed  look 


ALF  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY    287 

that  she  alone  could  interpret.  She  knew  —  un- 
derstood. And  his  friendship  with  Mayre  had 
become  a  little  more  desultory.  They  had  talked 
garden  until  the  subject  was  threadbare.  And 
Mayre  no  longer  went  about  the  house  singing 
her  crooked  little  tunes.  Sometimes  she  was  wan 
and  wistful,  again  bright  and  hopeful. 

Caroline  loathed  her  part  in  the  change,  re- 
gretted a  thousand  times  her  impulsiveness.  She 
almost  came  to  the  conclusion  that  she  wanted 
to  be  like  Alison :  cold  and  calculating  and  con- 
ventional. It  brought  less  misery  after  all;  im- 
pulsive people  were  always  settling  old  scores, 
clearing  up  past  misunderstandings. 

Alf  spoke  suddenly.  He  had  been  watching 
her  face. 

"You  put  one  over  on  me  jolly  well  that  —  that 
night  out  at  the  club,"  he  said,  with  his  straight- 
to-the-point  English  manner. 

Caroline's  lips  were  dumb. 

"Didn't  you?" 

Still  silence. 

«I  Say  —  didn't  you?" 

"Did  I?" 

The  color  had  leaped  in  Alf's  face.  He  looked 
a  bit  sheepish. 

"When  did  you  find  it  out?"  Caroline  at  last 
asked. 

"Just  now." 


288      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Again  the  low  laugh  filled  the  room. 

"What's  the  joke?" 

'Ton!  You're  so  British,  Alf,  I  can't  help 

laughing.  It  took  you  —  let  me  see "  She 

began  to  count  on  her  slim  brown  fingers,  "one, 
two,  three,  four  —  four  months  to  see  it." 

"See  what?" 

"The  joke.    That's  English,  isn't  it?' 

"I  believe  we  have  a  reputation  for  slowness  in 
some  matters  —  but  not  in  others."  His  face 
was  so  serious  that  Caroline  jumped  up  quickly. 

"Goodness,  I  hope  I  haven't  offended  you,"  she 
said. 

"You  couldn't,  you  little  witch." 

"Not  a  fairy  then?"  She  was  still  laughing; 
her  white  teeth,  gleaming  between  arched  red 
lips,  gave  her  a  daring,  irresistible  charm. 

He  tried  to  take  her  hand,  but  she  eluded  him 
by  picking  up  the  suits. 

"You  are  not  going  to  carry  those  things  over," 
he  said,  taking  them  from  her 

"Certainly  I  am." 

"Certainly  you  are  not.  James  will  deliver 
them.  Where  do  they  go?" 

"Across    the   street — number   5075    Cascade 


"Your  house?" 
"The  Major's." 
"I  see." 


ALF  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY    289 


"Do  you  really !     You  do  see  sometimes " 

"Yes  —  my  eyes  are  full  now." 

He  was  looking  straight  into  the  speckled  ones. 

"Do  you  like  coffee  grounds?"  she  asked 
saucily. 

"I— adore  them." 

"You  are  kind  —  good-by.  Thanks  awfully  for 
the  suits.  Barnes  is  going  to  look  like  a  king; 
perhaps  I  will  bring  him  over  to  thank  you." 

"Don't." 

"Why " 

"I  don't  want  the  poor  chap  appearing  in  my 
cast-offs  —  thanking  me  —  it  would  hurt  him." 

"So  it  would;  you  are  thoughtful,  Alf." 

"Am  I?    I  think  I  am  a  stupid  fool." 

"Because  you  couldn't  see  a  silly  joke?" 

"Because " 

He  did  not  finish.  "If  —  if  your  man  wants 
anything  else,  let  me  know,  please." 

"There  is  one  thing,  but  I  hate  to  ask  it  — 
you  have  been  so  kind " 

"What  is  it  —  I  offer  you  half  my  kingdom 

•>•> 

"For  Barnes?"  Her  charming,  tip-tilted  face 
lifted  to  his,  her  red  lips  flashed  a  bantering 
smile.  She  went  on  hurriedly,  "I  am  trying  to 
beg  enough  money  from  people  who  wouldn't 
miss  it  to  buy  his  railroad  ticket.  He  is  so 
anxious  to  get  home  to  see  his  mother  before 


290      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

she  goes  —  I  told  you  how  ill  she  has  been  for 
years " 

Alf  reached  into  his  pocket  and  drew  forth 
some  bills. 

"No  —  no,  please.  I  couldn't  let  you  do  it  all. 
I  have  saved  quite  a  bit  out  of  my  allowance,  and 
the  Major  insisted  upon  contributing." 

"Caroline,  you  make  me  feel  ashamed." 

"Pray  why?" 

"You  are  so  —  good." 

"You  don't  know  me.  Ask  Maumy.  She  will 
disillusion  you  —  tell  you  I  was  the  laddest 


Madame's  appearance  stopped  the  information. 

"Did  I  hear  you  say  that  you  wanted  money 
for  this  poor  boy,  Caroline?" 

"Yes,  Madame,  but  I  have  quite  enough." 

"He  will  want  something  in  his  pocket." 

"It  would  be  wonderful." 

She  took  the  bill  that  Madame  brought  and 
thanked  her  prettily.  She  had  gone  a  few  steps 
when  she  came  back. 

"May  I  kiss  you  for  it,"  she  asked,  "on  your 
cheek?  I've  always  wanted  to  —  somehow " 

Just  what  brought  the  sudden  rush  of  tears 
to  the  round  blue  eyes  Caroline  could  not  imagine, 
but  when  the  Madame  held  out  her  arms  she 
cuddled  into  them. 

And  on  that  same  Indian  summer  afternoon, 


ALF  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY]    291 

Blair  Newland  looked  into  Leigh's  brightened 
eyes  and  pressed  his  suit.  The  warm,  sunny 
veranda  was  quite  deserted  save  for  the  two. 
Leigh's  fingers  were  busy  with  her  lace  and  linen ; 
there  was  still  lace  to  whip  and  initials  to  em- 
broider, if  the  family  had  become  independent 
of  her  services. 

"Now  that  you  are  well  —  or  nearly  so " 

"I  will  never  be  wholly  well,  Blair  dear;  you 
must  not  deceive  yourself." 

Blair's  tender  eyes  caressed  the  sweet  face 
before  him. 

"I  loved  you  when  you  were  less  strong,"  he 
said  patiently. 

"Yes  —  but  we  must  wait  a  while  yet,  Blair 
—  perhaps  some  day  —  some  day  I  shall  really 
be  well  enough  to  make  a  home  for  you  —  but 
not  yet.  It  would  be  unfair " 

And  with  that  slender  promise  he  was  en- 
couraged and  content. 

As  the  winter  went  on,  Caroline  took  refuge 
more  and  more  in  the  tower  room.  Here  she 
wrote  her  school  themes,  studied,  dreamed  plots 
of  stories  and  dramas.  Now  and  then  one  of 
her  poems,  unsigned,  found  its  way  into  the 
Green  and  Gold,  the  high-school  paper,  and  a 
story  appeared  in  a  local  magazine,  but  her  hopes 
still  outweighed  experience ;  the  way  to  fame  was 
long  and  steep.  Perhaps  her  greatest  gift  lay 


292      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

in  realizing  it.  She  was  absolutely  devoid  of 
egotism.  Praise  had  the  effect  of  humbling  her. 
She  doubted  her  own  ability  with  a  zeal  that 
fostered  it ;  she  wanted  to  prove  its  worth  to  her- 
self,—  and  in  proving  she  grew. 

The  Major  watched  her  development  with  eager 
eyes.  "If  I  am  spared  one  year  more,"  he  said 
when  she  was  sixteen,  and  then,  "one  more  year," 
when  she  was  seventeen;  but  now  that  she  wras 
approaching  eighteen,  he  sparred  for  greater 
length  of  time. 

It  was  one  morning  in  the  early  spring  that 
Caroline,  keeping  office  —  she  always  took  the 
office  on  Saturday  —  grew  impatient  with  a  poor 
sodden  piece  of  humanity  that  clung  to  her 
father  for  spiritual  and  physical  support. 

"What  do  you  bother  with  old  Kline  for, 
Major?"  she  said.  "He  came  this  morning  in  a 
wretched  condition,  and  I  told  him  to  go  away." 

"That  was  a  little  out  of  your  province,  Caro- 
line." 

"Oh,  he'll  come  back,  don't  fear;  but  I  can't 
understand  why  you  keep  on  with  him,  giving 
him  money  when  we  need  it  ourselves." 

She  never  forgot  the  look  that  gathered  in  her 
father's  eyes  as  he  answered : 

"My  child,  there  is  a  turning  point  in  the  life 
of  every  human  soul.  Who  are  you  —  or  who  am 
I  —  to  say  when  that  moment  shall  come?" 


ALF  MAKES  A  DISCOVERY,    293 

Who,  indeed.  The  next  time  Kline  appeared  at 
the  door  she  welcomed  him  graciously.  Many 
years  later  her  father's  loyalty  and  old  Kline's 
turning  came  back  to  her  .with  sudden  force. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

CABOLINE  DECIDES 

IT  was  April.  One  of  those  blue  and  gold  days 
that  Colorado  occasionally  shows  as  a  sam- 
ple of  what  real  weather  ought  to  be.  The 
sky  was  turquoise;  the  sun,  at  mid-afternoon, 
bright  and  warm ;  the  air  so  thin  that  it  almost 
seemed  one  could  reach  out  and  lay  a  caressing 
hand  on  the  old  Peak. 

"Look  at  him  now,  Maumy,"  Caroline  said; 
they  were  in  the  drawing-room  busy  with  the 
spring  house-cleaning.  Maumy's  head  was  bound 
in  a  red  and  yellow  handkerchief;  now  and  then 
a  white,  kinky  braid  escaped  its  confines,  to  be 
poked  back  by  Caroline's  mischievous  fingers. 
Maumy's  bristling  pigtails  had  always  been  a 
source  of  merriment  to  her. 

"I  ain't  got  no  time  to  be  sky-gazm',"  Maumy 
said  impatiently.  "Look  wh'all  coming  crost  the 
street." 

Caroline  ran  to  the  French  door. 

"Why,  it's  Madame,"  she  cried.  "How  slowly 
she  walks.  Oh,  dear,  I  am  afraid  her  rheumatism 


CAROLINE  DECIDES  295 

is  bad  again.  We  have  had  so  much  rain  this 
spring." 

"Miss  Car  —  de  Madame  ain't  so  spry  as  she 
lister  waz,"  Maumy  said  . 

Caroline  turned  a  surprised  face. 

"What  did  you  start  to  call  her,  Maumy?" 

"Hungh?" 

"You  said  Miss  Car " 

"Sure  I  did.  I  say,  Miss  Car'  line,  de  Madame 
ain't  so  spry  as  she  used  to  waz."  Maumy's  low 
chuckle  was  cunning. 

"Oh." 

"You  ain't  changed  your  name  yit,  is  you?" 

"I  should  hope  not.  Why  —  Why  she's  going 
round  to  the  office.  I  do  believe  she's  going  to 
consult  the  Major.  Well,  if  she  had  gone  sooner, 
she  would  be  well  now." 

"I  reckon  so,  honey." 

"We  must  watch  when  she  comes  out  and  give 
her  some  tea." 

"I  ain't  gwine  serve  no  tea  house-cleanin' 
time." 

"I  will  —  you  needn't  bother." 

"Where  y 'gwine  set  her?" 

"On  the  veranda." 

"They's  a  cold  wind  thar — your  ole  man  he 
looks  pow'ful  meek,  but  his  brefs  icy " 

Caroline  shook  her  head  at  the  Peak.  "Maumy 
distrusts  your  smiles,"  she  said  and  laughed. 


296      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Doctor  Ravenel  seemed  rather  surprised  upon 
entering  his  reception  room  to  see  Madame  Wake- 
field  seated  in  his  one  easy  chair.  He  came  to- 
ward her  cordially. 

"This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure,  Madame. 
You  wish  to  see  me?" 

"Yes  —  alone,  please." 

Wonderingly  the  doctor  led  her  to  the  inner 
room.  When  she  was  comfortably  seated  facing 
him,  he  said : 

"You  are  not  well?" 

"Perfectly.  I  have  not  called  professionally, 
Doctor  Ravenel.  May  I  have  an  hour  of  your 
time,  nevertheless?  I  think  it  will  take  quite  all 
of  that  —  to  enlighten  you  as  —  to  who  I  am." 

"As  to  who  you  are,  my  dear  Madame " 

"Yes." 

The  doctor's  puzzled  face  hastened  her  in- 
formation. 

"Let  us  come  to  the  point  at  once.  I,  Doctor 
Ravenel,  am  Caroline  Kirtley  Wakefield,  the 
aunt  of  your  wife,  Emily  Kirtley.  I  married  at 
eighteen,  left  Warrensburg  —  but  that  is  a  long 
story  —  perhaps  you  do  not  care  for  details. 
Pardon  me,  I  have  alarmed  you.  I  am  always 
brusque  —  England  taught  me  that " 

Doctor  Ravenel  was  leaning  back  in  his  chair, 
his  amazed  eyes  leveled  in  his  guest's  direction. 

"I  should  have  been  more  considerate  in  my 


CAROLINE  DECIDES  297 

announcement  but  —  what  is  the  difference? 
You  will  understand  presently.  Why  waste 
words?" 

"You  are  Caroline  Kirtley  —  my  children's 
great-aunt?" 

Madame  Wakefield  thought  she  discovered  a 
flush  traveling  upward  from  his  neck  to  his  gray 
hair. 

She  laughed. 

"Please  don't  mind  their  silly  conversations  re- 
garding me.  It  was  most  natural,  I  assure  you. 
I  have  never  given  it  a  moment's  thought." 

They  both  laughed,  and  the  doctor  put  out  his 
hand. 

"Let  me  welcome  you  into  the  family,"  he  said 
cordially. 

"Thank  you  —  but  for  the  present,  I  prefer  to 
remain  —  Madame  Wakefield." 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  record  the  visit  that 
followed,  the  history  of  Madame's  two  marriages, 
the  first  to  Sir  Sydney  Wentworth  in  her  early 
youth,  the  second,  long  after  his  death,  to  Colonel 
Ainsdel  Wakefield ;  of  her  travels  over  the  globe, 
resulting,  most  naturally,  in  a  visit  to  Colorado. 
Her  nephew,  Alfred  Feveral,  nephew  by  mar- 
riage—  she  had  never  borne  children  of  her 
own  —  wanted  to  see  The  Lodge,  a  gift  to  him 
from  his  elder  brother  who  had  an  unfortunate 
experience  there.  So  the  history  ran. 


298      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

It  was  when  she  came»to  thereal  object  of  her 
visit  that  the  doctor  straightened  in  his  chair, 
and  his  face  grew  a  little  ashen. 

"As  I  said  before,  Doctor  Ravenel,  I  am  a 
brusque  person.  I  do  not  mince  matters."  Her 
words,  quickly  staccato,  bore  evidence.  "I  get 
to  the  point  as  speedily  as  possible.  Your  fourth 
daughter,  Caroline,  has  attracted  me  greatly. 
She  is  also,  I  fancy,  my  name-sake.  I  have  no 
children  of  my  own,  as  I  have  just  said.  I  there- 
fore  " 

Doctor  Ravenel  raised  a  trembling  hand  as  if 
to  ward  off  a  blow,  but  the  Madame  continued. 

"I  therefore  wish  to  make  provision  for  her  in 
my  will.  I  am  an  old  woman,  Doctor  Ravenel, 
old  in  years.  I  shall  soon  have  reached  my  four- 
score; asthma  is  a  poor  bedfellow,  though  your 
wonderful  climate  has  benefited  me " 

She  paused  for  a  minute.  The  doctor  had 
leaned  back  in  his  chair.  His  gaze  was  directed 
through  the  window.  For  once  his  eyes  had  lost 
their  inscrutability.  They  were  no  longer  un- 
fathomable. They  were  soft  and  tender.  In  their 
depths  lay  the  responsibility  of  parenthood. 

Madame  Wakefield  saw  that  she  had  startled 
him  and  for  a  moment  she  was  silent.  Presently 
she  went  on : 

"If  it  were  possible,  and  you  would  allow  me, 
I  should  like  to  take  Caroline  home  with  me  in 


CAROLINE  DECIDES  299 

the  autumn  —  to  England.  There  she  could  have 
many  advantages  —  educational  —  social.  Suc- 
cess awaits  her,  I  am  sure,  and  with  means  at  her 
command " 

It  was  then  Doctor  Kavenel  spoke,  almost 
sharply  : 

"Success,  Madame  Wakefield,  is  not  a  wind- 
fall ;  it  is  a  habit !" 

"You  mean "  Madame  Wakefield  began 

and  stopped.  The  doctor's  eyes  were  again  in- 
scrutable: the  ghosts  that  passed  before  them 
were  not  for  the  world, — defeat,  humiliation,  dis- 
appointment. He  had  failed  with  one  child.  Ali- 
son's selfishness  continually  rebuked  him.  Yes, 
he  had  failed  there,  flagrantly. 

The  face  that  he  turned  to  Madame  Wakefield 
was  almost  haggard.  She  was  touched. 

"I  know  that  I  am  asking  for  your  very  life, 
Doctor " 

"It  is  not  that.  I  am  accustomed  to  sacrifices." 
Unconsciously  a  cough  rose  to  his  lips.  Colorado 
had  fought  valiantly,  but  could  never  entirely 
heal  his  damaged  lungs.  He  knew  that.  There 
would  always  be  a  struggle. 

"It  is  not  the  sacrifice.  That  I  would  make 
willingly.  I  shall  have  to  think  over  your  offer, 
Madame  Wakefield,  but  —  if  I  refuse  it,  I  must 
ask  you  not  to  doubt  my  gratitude.  We  must 
not  —  fail  —  Caroline." 


300    .  THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

She  did  not  question  what  he  meant.  Caroline 
Kirtley  was  too  fine  to  trespass. 

"I  shall  trust  your  wisdom  in  the  matter,  but 
in  regard  to  my  will  —  time  waits  for  no  man, 
Doctor.  I  know  not  when  my  hour  may  come. 
I  want  to  make  Caroline  my  heir." 

Doctor  Ravenel  rose  with  her. 

"Under  no  circumstances  would  I  wish  Caro- 
line to  inherit  a  fortune  until  she  has  reached 
the  age  of  thirty.  By  then,  if  ever,  habit  will 
have  insured  success.  I  thank  you  —  more  per- 
haps than  I  have  been  able  to  express." 

It  was  after  dinner,  that  night,  that  Caroline 
was  invited  into  the  office.  Her  father,  as  al- 
ways, drew  up  a  chair  for  her.  His  cigar  was 
well  alight  when  he  said: 

"To-morrow,  I  believe,  is  your  eighteenth 
birthday." 

"So  it  is,  Major.    I  had  almost  forgotten." 

"Do  you  realize  that  you  will  be  of  age?" 

"No;  will  I  really?    How  interesting!" 

"Have  you  thought  what  you  want  to  do  —  in 
the  future?  Nowadays  girls,  as  well  as  boys, 
work  toward  a  definite  result." 

"Mercy,  you  are  not  going  to  turn  me  out,  are 
you,  Major?"  She  reached  and  slipped  a  hand 
into  his. 

"I  should  always  want  you  with  me,  Caroline," 
he  said  softly.  "I  must  watch  lest  I  become  sel- 


CAROLINE  DECIDES  301 

fish.  No  —  I  merely  want  to  help  you  find  your- 
self, to  know  that  great  big  world  out  there  — 
called  life." 

"But  goodness,  Major,  is  it  so  serious  as  that !" 
"To-morrow  you  cross  a  line,  my  child,  into 
womanhood.    There  are  obligations." 
"I  must  stop  playing." 
"There  will  always  be  time  for  play." 
"But  I  must  lay  plans  for  the  future.    Is  that 
it?" 

"It  is  none  too  soon  to  begin." 
"I  think  I  should  like  to  write,  Major." 
"Very  well ;  that  means  education." 
Caroline's  brown  head  bobbed. 
"I  —  if  it  were  possible,  I  should  like  to  go  to  a 
good  college — where  I  could  get  the  best  English. 
But  most  of  all  I  want  to  live  —  to  understand 
people — their  hurts  and  cares  and  ambitions — to 
get  inside  of  them.     Perhaps  you  don't  quite 
understand  —  down   under  the  skin  and  work 
out." 

She  laughed  her  low,  bubbling  laugh. 
"Yes  —  I  understand.     What  kind  of  people?" 
"Oh,  all  kinds.  They  don't  differ  much.  What's 
that  couplet? 

'When  you  get  to  a  man  in  the  case, 
They're  like  as  a  row  of  pins  - 
For  the  Colonel's  Lady  and  Judy  O'Grady 
Are  sisters  under  their  skins.' 


302      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

Take  Maumy,  for  instance.  Did  you  ever  know 
a  finer  lady  —  down  under  the  skin?  Look  at 
her  loyalty,  her  modesty,  her  fairness  and  de- 
cency." 

She  broke  off  suddenly: 

"Oh,  Major,  I  hate  growing  up !" 

"We  have  all  hated  it,  I  suspect,  Caroline." 

"Why  must  we?" 

The  doctor  smiled. 

"I  am  afraid  if  old  people  could  keep  their 
looks  —  their  sparkle  —  along  with  the  experi- 
ence age  contributes,  poor  youth  would  have  no 
show  at  all." 

"I  had  never  thought  of  that.  Gracious,  there's 
so  much  to  learn!" 

"So  much,  indeed." 

Silence  fell  between  them.  The  doctor  puffed 
at  his  cigar;  Caroline  caught  the  rings. 

"I  suppose  I  will  have  to  stop  this,"  she  said, 
and  her  red  lips  pouted,  "now  that  I  am  crossing 
the  Eubicon." 

Her  father  did  not  speak. 

"Is  that  all  you  wanted,  Major?     If  it  is " 

Suddenly  he  leaned  forward  in  his  chair.  He 
was  under  a  great  strain.  Caroline  felt  it. 

"How  would  you  like  to  go  abroad?"  he  asked 
abruptly. 

"Abroad !"    She  bounded  from  her  chair. 

«Yes  — to  England!" 


CAROLINE  DECIDES  303 

"With  the  Madame?" 

"Yes." 

For  a  moment  the  atmosphere  was  strangely 
tense. 

"To  London,  Major?" 

"I  suppose  so." 

"Oh,  I  would  simply  adore  it.    Could  I?" 

"I  want  you  to  think  it  over." 

"You  mean  —  decide?  She's  really  asked 
me?" 

For  a  moment  he  did  not  answer;  it  almost 
seemed  that  he  could  not.  Then  he  nodded 
gravely. 

"Oh,  Major,  it  sounds  like  —  like  'such  a  big 
order',  as  Alf  says.  I  am  afraid  I  can't  decide 
alone.  You  must  help  me.  When  would  she 
want  me  to  go?" 

"Next  autumn,  I  believe." 

Again  there  was  an  ecstatic  "Oh." 

Her  father  rose. 

"To-morrow  morning,  early  —  before  office 
hours  —  I  want  you  to  come  in  here  and  tell  me 
your  decision.  Good  night." 

She  was  dismissed,  but  something  in  the  Maj- 
or's face  made  her  yearn  to  linger.  He  looked  old 
and  careworn.  There  were  lines  about  his  eyes 
that  she  had  never  noticed  before.  His  step  was 
weary. 

It  was  a  tedious  night  for  both.    Doctor  Rav- 


304      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

enel  lay  on  his  cot  in  the  tent,  looking  out  upon 
the  stars. 

Caroline  tumbled  and  tossed.  When  she  slept 
it  was  to  dream  wild,  thrilling  dreams.  Toward 
morning  a  strange  peace  fell  upon  her.  She  crept 
from  her  bed  and  threw  a  dressing  gown  about 
her.  To  the  East  the  sky  warmed  with  color. 
She  watched  it  until  the  last  tone  ebbed.  Still 
she  sat  gazing  eastward. 

At  nine  o'clock  she  presented  herself  at  the 
office.  As  always,  the  Major  had  dressed  with 
care.  She  noticed  his  hands — the  well-kept  nails 
—  the  top  of  his  snowy  handkerchief  showing 
above  his  coat  pocket.  There  was  an  air  about 
him.  A  thrill  of  pride  shot  through  her. 

"I  have  decided,  Major,"  she  said,  and  her 
voice  trembled  a  little.  "Could  we  sit  here  a 
minute,  please?" 

The  Major  pulled  up  chairs. 

"I  am  very  grateful  to  the  Madame,  but  —  but 
I  shall  not  accept  her  invitation,"  she  said 
quietly.  Her  voice  was  low. 

A  light  leaped  to  the  tired  eyes  opposite. 

"I  feel  —  you  see  —  may  I  speak  frankly, 
Major?  I  don't  just  know  what  it  would  do  to 
me  —  now  —  while  I  am  so  young.  There  was 
Alison,  you  know.  Leigh  says  it  is  so  easy  to  be- 
come spoiled  and  —  lazy  —  and  I  want  to  work, 
Major " 


CAROLINE  DECIDES  305 

For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  she  could  not 


"And  —  I  think,  perhaps  some  day  we  could 
manage  —  I  mean  so  that  I  could  go  to  school  — 
to  college.  I  would  rather  you  sent  me,  even 
if  I  have  to  go  economically.  I  have  a  nasty 
pride,  I  reckon;  it's  the  Ravenel  in  me,  I  sus- 
pect   " 

Her  father  was  watching  her  with  smiling  eyes. 

"I  don't  like  to  be  turned  into  an  —  orphan  — 
while  I  have  you " 

They  both  laughed. 

"You  remember  the  time  Mrs.  Boland  gave 
me  one  of  Sally's  outgrown  dresses,  and  I  asked 
you  what  she  took  me  for  —  an  Orphans'  Home 
or  the  Salvation  Army?  Well  —  I  am  like  that 
yet,  a  bit  — I " 

There  was  a  catch  in  her  voice,  but  she  went 
on: 

"I  was  thinking  this  morning  how  long  I  have 
been  walking  with  you,  Major.  Remember  how 
we  used  to  go  down  the  lane  after  tea  in  Vir- 
ginia? That  time  you  were  so  ill?  I  always 
held  to  your  hand  —  and  you  told  me  about  the 
flowers  —  the  rhododendrons  on  the  hills.  And  I 
remember  how,  when  you  used  to  clip  the  roses, 
I  held  the  basket.  I  could  scarcely  wait  to  get 
my  hand  in  yours  again.  It  felt  so  big  and  com- 
fortable—  so  secure.  I  think  —  if  you  don't 


306      THEN  CAME  CAROLINE 

mind  —  I'll  walk  with  you  a  little  farther, 
Major." 

She  turned  and  left  the  room  suddenly.  She 
had  never  before  seen  tears  in  his  eyes.  They 
frightened  her. 

She  went  upstairs  and  sat  down  before  the 
desk  in  the  tower  room.  The  windows  were 
open.  The  air  floated  in  softly,  rippling  the 
little  curls  that  strayed  about  her  neck  and  fore- 
head. The  old  Peak  glittered. 

Her  glance  strayed  to  the  motto  above  the  desk, 
and  to  a  note  beside  it. 

She  smiled  as  she  took  it  down  and  blew  away 
the  dust,  smiled  as  she  read  the  fading  lines  : 

September  the  fifteenth,  19  — 

The  Mesa 
• —  Four  o'clock 


A  wholesome  and  diverting  story  of  a  girl  mascot  of  the  U.  8. 
Marine  Corps 


SERGEANT  JANE 


By  MARGARET  MOORE  MATLACK 

With  illustrations  by  Nana  French  Bickford. 

12mo.         Cloth.        278  pages. 


Sergeant  Jane  is  the  thirteen-year-old  daughter  of  a  Colonel 
of  Marines,  who  is  sent  to  command  the  Marine  post  at  Char- 
lotte Amalia  in  the  West  Indies.  Jane  herself  tells  the  story  of 
her  adventures,  the  escapades  of  her  small  brother  Jimmy,  and 
the  —  to  her  —  absurdities  of  her  sister,  who  has  just  reached 
the  sentimental  stage.  Sergeant  Jane  is  a  breezy  small  person 
with  a  fondness  for  outdoor  sports,  a  keen  sense  of  humor  and  a 
deep  pride  in  her  father's  beloved  marines.  They  in  turn  adopt 
her  as  their  mascot;  hence  her  title.  In  the  course  of  the  story 
Jane  gives  some  very  interesting  pictures  of  the  beautiful  island, 
the  charm  of  the  life  there,  and  the  customs  of  the  people.  There 
is  a  good  plot  running  through  the  pages,  in  which  Jane  has  a 
chance  to  exercise  her  ingenuity,  and  a  mystery  which  she  is  in- 
strumental in  clearing  up. 

"The  finding  of  a  good  book  for  girls  is  a  none  too  frequent 
occurence  at  the  present  time,  or  perhaps  at  any  time.  'Sergeant 
Jane'  is  distinctly  out  of  the  ordinary,  and  it  has  many  charac- 
teristics which  should  recommend  it  to  immediate  interest; .  .  .  . 
the  story  is  f  uh  of  mystery  and  exciting  incidents  —  both  of  which 
are  likely  to  be  lacking  in  the  ordinary  girls'  book."  —  The  Boston 
Transcript. 


LITTLE,   BROWN  &  CO.,   PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


The  story  of  a  little  patriotic  Cuban  girl 


LITTLE  CUBA  LIBRE 


By  JANIE  PRICHARD  DUGGAN 
Illustrated.     282  pages.     12mo. 


In  all  the  big  city  of  Havana  there  was  no  more  patriotic 
little  girl  than  Amada  Trueno,  daughter  of  one  of  the  city 
gardeners.  With  all  her  heart  she  hated  the  Spaniards  who 
ruled  her  beloved  island  of  Cuba.  "Little  Cuba  Libre"  they 
called  her  when  she  stamped  her  foot  and  called  the  Spaniards 
enemies  and  tyrants.  When  she  went  to  her  cousin's  house 
in  the  country,  although  she  played  on  friendly  terms  with 
the  children  of  a  Spanish  planter,  still  her  hatred  of  the  op- 
pressors slumbered.  How  the  Cubans  finally  revolted,  and 
how  little  Amada  herself  took  part  in  that  revolution,  even 
to  the  extent  of  bearing  arms,  is  told  in  this  charming  story. 
"Little  Cuba  Libre"  contains  faithful  pictures  of  Cuban  life 
and  Cuban  people,  and  while  written  especially  for  young 
readers,  its  fine  qualities  should  also  appeal  to  older  ones. 
Besides  being  an  interesting  story  of  Cuban  girlhood  it  is  a 
depiction  of  the  very  spirit  of  patriotism. 


LITTLE,  BROWN  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
34  BEACON  STREET,  BOSTON 


A     000035852     3 


